When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them
by DreamersDaze
Summary: When a family member's health scare makes her question her own lifestyle, Bella begins a journey to find common ground between outer beauty, inner beauty, health and peace. Will she able to find love, in others and within herself?  All Human
1. Mirror, Mirror

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet  
But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.  
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet  
But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

_~Lemon Tree, Peter Paul and Mary_

Chapter One-Mirror, Mirror.

_Murder is not the answer. You will not go to prison for grocery store homicide._

I repeated the mantra in my head a few more times as I attempted to keep my seething temper in check. I was well aware that violence against the elderly was frowned upon in polite society, but if the old lady behind me rammed into my legs with her cart one more time, I was not to be held responsible for my actions. It was not my fault that the jerk in front of me had ignored the 'Express: 15 Items Or Less' sign, and had about two weeks worth of groceries on the conveyor belt. Logic led me to conclude that having _my_ ankles rammed by grandma's cart was not, in fact, going to speed up time and get her to the cashier any faster.

Apparently I was alone in this conclusion. I winced as my legs were once again assaulted by the impatient octogenarian, apparently in a hurry to get home before 'General Hospital' or 'As The World Turns' or something. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to sound polite as I turned to the little old lady behind me.

"Excuse me ma'am, but could you please stop? Mowing me down with your cart won't change the fact that there's someone in front of me."

"Screw you, you fat bitch!"

_I think I just got cursed out by a senior citizen._

My jaw hit the ground and I jolted back, stunned. "Jeeze lady, do you kiss your grandkids with that mouth?"

And then she gave me the finger. For a moment I fantasized about ripping out her dentures and shoving them 'where the sun don't shine'. But to be honest, Grandma needs-her-mouth-cleaned-out-with-soap looked like she could, and would, kick my ass. So I bit my tongue, as the assault via shopping cart continued, staring into my basket at the half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and bag of double stuffed Oreos that I was dying to dig into. As I finally reached the cashier, putting space between me and Grandma's cart of doom, the gum cracking teenager arched her eyebrow as she looked at me…and then at my purchases.

_Yep…I'm fat. Google search images of 'girls that eat their feelings' and my picture would surely come up. Yes, I am buying cookies and ice cream. Could you ring those up while you're judging me?_

For some reason, the girl took forever to scan my two items, as if ice cream and cookies were somehow more challenging than healthier foods. Grandma Ankle-Rammer started inching towards me again, and I tried to hold onto my composure.

_Ohhmmm, think serene thoughts. Ohhmmm, find your happy place. Ohhmmm my God I'm two seconds away from going postal._

After what felt like eons, I was finally free from the cashier of doom and The Wolf dressed in Grandma's robes, and I was making my way across the parking lot, purchases in hand. Though I was disgruntled and my ankles were screaming in pain, it had been one of my more pleasant trips to the grocery store.

As I was about to start the car, my phone began to emit 'The Jump Off' courtesy of Lil' Kim. I hated this song, but I hadn't really had a choice in the matter. I answered as quickly as possible, in order to cut off the ringtone.

"Hey Rose, guess what? I managed an independent trip to the grocery store without killing anyone! Aren't you proud of me?"

For a moment, I was thrown off by the lack of a response. Then I heard a sob through the receiver.

_Here we go._

"What happened, Rose?"

There was another choked sob, followed by a string of half-intelligible speech. I heard something along the lines of "pompous-rat-faced-bastard". It looked like I'd be sharing my comfort food tonight.

"Hang tight. I'll be there in 10 minutes." I sighed as I hung up.

The A/C in my car was busted so I rolled down my windows as I drove, trying to catch a breeze from the heated Arizona air. Patterns of light chased each other merrily across the interior of the car, as the sun reflected off the little glass ball that hung from my rearview mirror.

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Rosalie Hale had been my best friend since the sixth grade, and I was still in awe every time I pulled up to her place. Her parents were disgustingly rich, and their home was nothing less than a mansion; a cold, empty mansion. Mr. Hale traveled often because of his job, and if he was home twice in a month it was considered a miracle. Mrs. Hale was the hostess of many charity and social events and home about as often as her husband. Being an only child left Rose on her own a lot, and I knew it bothered her more than she cared to admit.

I parked my slightly beat up, but oh-so-reliable truck in the vast sea of gravel that was the Hale's driveway, and grabbed my bag of goodies; glad to see that the ice cream hadn't melted all over the place. Before I had even lifted my arm to ring the bell and announce my presence, the door had been thrown open and my best friend had flung herself into my arms with a sniffle. I embraced her for a moment before I remembered the bag in my hand.

"Rose you have to let me go for a minute. Your comfort food is melting."

Reluctantly released, I moved past her and to the kitchen. After throwing the Oreos on the counter and shoving the ice cream into the freezer, I turned to assess the situation.

Even with her eyeliner smudged and tears streaming down her cheeks, Rosalie Hale scored a 100 on a scale of 1 to 10. Sometimes I still wondered why someone of her caliber let herself be seen with me. We were polar opposites. She was a fit and slightly curved 120 pounds and I… well I was more than double that number. Her perfectly coiffed, blonde hair framed her flawless face, while my thin and straggly brown strands only seemed to make my face look bigger. In middle and high school she'd been a cheerleader, popular, outgoing; the girl everyone watched with jealousy glinting green in their eyes. Me… I was the shy wallflower that all the jealous girls picked on to make themselves feel better; until Rose came to my rescue that is.

About halfway through sixth grade, I'd helped Rose study for an English exam, which she'd passed with flying colors. Rose functions on a simple moral code. You do her a solid favor… she does you one. A few days later she intercepted two girls as they attempted to bully me in the girls' bathroom. What should have been a one time debt repaid somehow bloomed into a long term friendship. People respected Rose; they feared her blunt sarcasm and her courage. They were also well aware that she was not one to be trifled with. While she could never be in every hallway, or bathroom, her presence in my life took out a large number of my childhood tormenters.

The friendship had seemed terribly one sided in my eyes. I was no longer beat up and tortured, but what did Rosalie Hale, blonde bombshell, get out of hanging out with me? I'd asked her that very question after she'd sat with me at lunch for two weeks in a row, instead of claiming her normal spot at the table reserved for the 'beautiful people'. "Bella," she'd answered me firmly, "those girls aren't my friends. They talk to me because they're either trying to promote their reputation or shit all over mine. You're different. You don't look at me and start mapping out strategic plans in your head. There's no judgment with you, no mold that you expect me to always fit into. I can be myself, and it feels nice." It was the first compliment I'd ever gotten from someone other than my mom.

Rose was currently sniffling and wiping her tears away with her sleeve. I searched my brain, trying to find the right words to say. Sometimes, as a friend, you're torn between the words you know they need to hear, and the words you want to say. As long as I'd known her, Rose had been the strongest person I'd ever met. She didn't take shit from anyone, and she wasn't afraid to voice her opinion. But her choice in men seemed to undermine the strong-willed and independent personality that dominated every other aspect of her life.

Her current beau, Royce King, was one of the douchiest assholes she'd been with to date. She knew how I felt about him, and since their first date about 8 months ago I'd had to walk that horribly fine line that all must walk when they hate their best friend's boyfriend. It sucked.

I tried to stay unbiased, collecting two bowls and two spoons before retrieving the ice cream. "So, what's going on?" I asked, as I began scooping out the minty smelling, creamy goodness.

I was answered by a heavy sigh, and a few attempts at calming breaths. "The fucker cheated on me! He won't own up to it, but he came over the other night smelling like some other bitch's perfume. He tried to tell me I was being overdramatic… but he hasn't been around much, and I fucking know the smell of my own goddamn perfume, you know?" Her voice broke, and she looked down at the floor, shaking her head. "I never thought he'd do something like this."

_I did._

Royce treated Rose like a trophy, not his girlfriend. He refused to be seen in public with her unless she had carefully donned makeup and fashion appropriate clothing. He talked down to her like she was an idiot, and he insulted her with every other sentence he spoke. Of course he was cheating on her. Had I tried to express my thoughts to her? Yes. Had she told me she was a big girl and to mind my own business? Yes. So I did, because sometimes being a friend meant letting people make their own mistakes.

"So what did you do? I mean… did you like, break up with him?"

She glared at me like I was an idiot. Considering all the other shit he'd done that she'd let slide, I felt it was a legitimate question. "Of course I broke up with him Bella, that kind of shit is inexcusable."

I gave her a sympathetic smile as I handed her a bowl of ice cream, topped off with a couple Oreo cookies. And then her phone began to buzz and she looked at me in horror. "It… it's him. Should I answer it?"

My eyebrow arched. "Didn't you just say that kind of shit is inexcusable?"

Rose nodded and hit the ignore button on her cell. She leaned forward, glaring down at the granite countertop of the kitchen island. "Yes… it is. He will not charm his way out of this one. I am a good person, and I deserve to be treated with respect."

Reaching out, she played with a spoonful of ice cream for a moment. "I don't think comfort food is gonna cut it for this one Bella. I'm in need of some comfort booze." She disappeared from the kitchen, and returned a few moments later with a bottle of tequila from her parents' liquor cabinet. "You know what they say," she declared, holding up the bottle, "when life gives you lemons, find someone whose life has given them tequila and throw a party!"

I had a strange obsession with the 'when life gives you lemons' saying. You can tell a lot about someone's personality by the way they finish that sentence. 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade', is favored by the optimists. Then there are the Roses who think that a bottle of booze to go with their lemons will make everything A-okay. 'When life gives you lemons use them as projectiles against people who piss you off', is the favored mantra of the hostile. Snarky humorists prefer something more like 'When life gives you lemons, make grape juice. Then sit back and watch the world try to figure out how you did it.' Then there were people like me; people who dealt with their issues by using their mouth. Not in a back alley hooker kind of way. No, the mantra for people like me was, 'when life gives you lemons: eat them'.

Torn from my thoughts, I suddenly realized that it was only 10:00 AM, and Rose was about to take a swig of tequila straight from the bottle.

"Oh, no you don't, Rose! It's not even noon yet. I do not want to deal with your drunken ass. Wasted-on-rum Jack Sparrow can't even rival the stagger that you have when you drink this shit. Savvy?"

I successfully maneuvered the bottle from Rose's grasp, and returned it to the liquor cabinet as she sulked over her melting ice cream.

"You know Bella, just because you aren't friends with tequila doesn't mean that I can't be. We're not in middle school anymore."

"Eat your Oreos like a good girl," I admonished gently, as I returned.

We made small talk, careful to avoid any chance that the asshole's name might be mentioned. I had lost track of time until my phone rang. I recognized my mother's ring tone and heaved a sigh. "Hey, mom."

"Bella? Where are you?" My mother's voice always sounded breathy and animated. She had this wildness about her, this inability to stay still for too long.

"Um… at Rosalie's house. Why?"

"You were going to come shopping with me in Scottsdale today, remember?"

_Aw shoot. _"Sorry mom, I totally forgot. Let me finish up here and I'll be home in 15, ok?"

"I'm already in town, so just head over here when you're done."

"Oh, ok. In that case I'll be over in a half an hour or so."

"Perfect," she squealed, so easily appeased, "we can do lunch, and then some window shopping!"

"Yay, window shopping," I said half heartedly. My mother was oblivious to the use of sarcasm, which was good for me, because I sucked at covering mine up.

"What did your mom want?" Rose inquired as she sifted through the melted ice cream in her bowl.

"I forgot I told her I'd go to Scottsdale with her today. She's gonna drag me through a billion art galleries, I know it."

"Since when has your mom liked art?"

I snorted. "It's her hobby of the month. You know my mom."

Renee Dwyer was an indecisive spirit, to say the least. After marrying my father, Charlie Swan, she'd taken me and left their home of Forks, Washington. She'd cited that she couldn't stand the oppressively dismal climate, but personally, I think that after two years with Charlie she'd simply had enough of the stable, ritualized way he lived.

Four years ago, around the time I graduated from high school, my mother remarried. I think one of the reasons things work so well between Phil and Renee was that he was as much of a constant mover as she was. Phil was a minor league baseball player, and thus his work required a lot of moving around. Renee flew out to visit him; sometimes she'd stay in the same place with him for as long as a month or two, but then she was free to fly back home without feeling nailed down. Sometimes they went a full month without seeing each other, but the love between them was as palpable as the love between a husband and wife that see each other every day. It just worked.

Renee was actually leaving tomorrow to go visit Phil in Jacksonville, Florida; hence why she wanted to do this mother/daughter shopping day in Scottsdale. I loved our girls' day out shenanigans but I was also slightly nervous. She'd been on me about my weight a lot over the past few months and it was starting to drive me crazy.

I was the type to lie down and accept my destined place in life. I didn't do diets; if I liked that skinny-girl-rabbit-food I wouldn't be overweight, would I? Instead, I convinced myself that I was doing the pretty girls a favor. If there weren't fat, unattractive people like me, they'd have no one to compare their flawless figures to, and then what would they do with their lives?

After being overweight for fifteen of the twenty-two years I'd been alive, it had finally come to my mother's attention that I had a 'bit of an eating problem' as she so eloquently put it. _ No shit, Sherlock!_ However, I was currently at the highest weight I'd ever been. Though I was a very chubby child, I didn't really start to put the weight on until I learned to drive. The ability to go out in the car whenever I wanted and eat to my heart's content with no one the wiser, was an ability I took full advantage of; which was why I was now waiting in the drive through line for McDonald's. If I was going to be doing a ton of walking with Renee in Scottsdale, then I needed some sustenance. Plus, wonderful and selfless friend that I was, I'd left the cookies and ice cream in Rosalie's much more deserving hands. Not that I could have taken the ice cream to Scottsdale with me, but whatever.

I devoured my burger and fries happily as I made my way to my destination. And then I shoved the evidence under my seat, because even though I was 22 years old, my mother's disapproval scared the heck out of me.

My mother sent me a text informing me that I would find her at her favorite little café. She greeted me with a smile and a haphazard wave, holding on delicately to the large hat she wore to stave off the heat. I reveled in the warmth soaking into my skin. The heat was convenient for me. Being a big girl, I got overheated very easily, and perspired like a lunatic. But in the humid Phoenix air, all of the skinny girls were sweating too, so I didn't feel so bad.

"I was just about to order a late lunch," Renee informed me, as I situated myself in the seat across from her, "do you want anything?"

"No I'm good; I um…ate at Rose's."

"Oh?" she said, tilting her head and giving me her 'I'm judging, but I don't want to look like I'm judging' face. It enraged me when she did this, despite the fact that her judgments were usually spot on.

"Yeah. We had some lemon chicken and salad," I lied. The words tasted like half digested cheeseburger and fries.

As I watched my mother enjoy her Mediterranean salad, I couldn't help but think about what other people saw as they passed us. They saw her; vivacious, shining, beautiful, looking ten years younger than she actually was. And then they saw me; rolls and uneven pudgy parts, looking like I was closer to a heart attack than an eighty year old. Again with the polar opposites, I seemed to be surrounded by them.

"So," my mother began, and I looked up to find her staring at me intently across the table. _Oh no…stares full of intent are never good._ "I ran into Mrs. Olney, from down the street, today."

"Yeah?" I prompted, trying to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

Renee's hands began to flutter about the edges of the table; picking at the napkin, touching her fork as if she were about to grab it, and then appearing to change their mind. She always did this when she knew she was treading into sensitive territory. "Well she was telling me about how she's starting this new diet. Apparently there's this berry called Acai, which speeds up your metabolism and…"

I glared across the table as I interrupted. "Mom… fad diets are bullshit! There is no A+B=C equation to losing weight, no easy fix. Some people are just meant to be bigger. I'm fine with myself just the way I am. Why can't you be?"

The nervous hand fluttering sped up. "Look, I'm not trying to pressure you sweetie, but it's just… I worry about your health. You're getting older, and there are all these things associated with being overweight. I mean… your father has a history of heart disease on his side of the family…"

Leaning back in the chair, I heaved a sigh. She did this all the time, and I couldn't be mad. Because she just cared about me… and her points were totally valid. I worried about my health all the time. I just couldn't seem to motivate myself to do anything about it.

"I know mom. And I love you, and I know that you worry. But if weight loss, or dieting, or whatever is going to be in my future, then it has to be something I choose to do for myself. Not something I do to make you feel better."

"You're right, Bella. I'm sorry I brought it up. Let's forget I said anything." She looked at me with watery eyes, and the guilt began to eat away at me as I thought about the crumpled fast food bag under the seat of my car. Renee was like those gnats that fly into your eyes when it's hot out. She skirted away quickly the minute you made a move to swat at her, but she was back again in an instant. I knew she'd be bringing all this up again soon.

I managed to pretend that I had put the incident behind me as we went about our day; pretended that I wasn't winded and exhausted after only 30 minutes of walking, pretended that I wasn't hungry for Cheeto's and pizza an hour later, and pretended that I actually was fine with myself just the way I was. Yes, I was very good at pretending.

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When we got home later that night, I retreated to my room with as little interaction with my mother as possible. It wasn't her fault really, but more than a few hours at a time in her presence tended to make me kind of sad.

Renee deserved a daughter who was beautiful, and smart. She deserved a daughter who was away at college earning some sort of really important master's degree, not someone who had only gone as far as a bachelor's degree in business management and done nothing with the degree any way. But that's who she was stuck with. Bella Swan, age 22, still living at home with no plans for a successful future.

Picking up my phone, I called Rose to check up on her, and maybe also to distract myself from my many shortcomings. After a short conversation, Rose departed to go have what she described as 'a fake-ass Brady bunch' dinner with her mother.

Alone again, I began to pace my room, searching for something to do. I settled on cleaning my mirror collection. That would certainly pass the time.

I kind of had an obsession with mirrors, much like my obsession with the whole 'when life gives you lemons' saying. I kept a collection, all shapes and sizes, of mirrors. Not just any mirrors mind you, but only those with intricately detailed frames. Sometimes, silly as it sounds, I imagined that when I looked into a mirror, there was another world on the other side; a world in which I was everything that I lacked in this life. I kept waiting to step through the glass, like Lewis Carroll's Alice in 'Through the Looking Glass'.

As I dusted around the elegant swirls framing my favorite full length mirror, I stared at my reflection and willed it to morph into the shape of someone else, anyone else but the glossy sheet was silent, unchanging. It would not be granting me any magic wishes tonight. Eventually I gave up on the cleaning, and gave up on the day. I dressed myself for bed and crawled under the covers, like a snail retracting into its shell. Maybe my dreams would offer me better comfort than the day had.

They didn't. I tossed and turned as evilly cackling mirrors chased me in my nightmares. No matter where I ran they followed me, cornered me, tortured me with the bland visage within the glass. The mirror vision of myself moved behind her glass cage, beat against its surface with a raging sorrow. But she was trapped…I was trapped. In a prison of my own making.

_Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?_

_Not me._

**(AN)-Hopefully if you've reached the bottom of this page, that means you've enjoyed the first chapter. For anyone who prefers reading stories with lots of smutty Lemons, I must warn you that while I have those kinds of things planned for this story, they won't happen for a while. This fic will be what some call 'a slow burn'. If that's not your cup of tea, I understand. **

**For everyone that is still here, and intend to continue this journey with me, thank you for reading!**


	2. Are We Having Fun Yet?

**(AN)- I wasn't going to post till Friday, but your reviews made my heart so happy I couldn't resist. So you get chapter 2 early! But next week...next week you get nada till friday night! (Puts on my 'I mean it' face).**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I'm awake and I've been losing sleep.  
I've been fighting all my demons,  
I've been getting weak cause I've been  
Trying, trying, trying to be  
Anything other than me

_~Losing Sleep, Charlotte Sometimes_

Chapter Two- Are We Having Fun Yet?

Mondays are depressing enough for the mind of a well rested individual. For someone like me, who tosses and turns all night, they are downright unbearable. I groaned as my alarm clock ushered me towards reluctant consciousness.

_Why the hell am I up this early on my day off? Oh right, Renee…airport._

With a groan, I heaved myself out of bed, and sluggishly padded into the bathroom. The shower returned some of my baser brain functions, but regaining higher level processing would definitely require coffee.

Sinfully wide awake, and as a hyper as a five year old who's had way too much sugar; Renee smiled at me as she bounced across the kitchen to hand me a cup of delicious, caffeinated goodness.

"I'm so sorry to have gotten you up so early sweetie, but Phil has training and this was the only time he'd be able to get me from the airport in Jacksonville."

"It's fine Mom," I assured, sipping my coffee as I made us some eggs and toast.

An hour and a half later, I was being suffocated by Renee's tight embrace. I suppressed the desire to roll my eyes when she began sniffling into my shoulder. She was awful at goodbyes. Even though she'd been traveling frequently for 4 years now, she still cried her eyes out.

"I want you to call me every night," she demanded.

"That means you'll have to keep your phone charged," I teased.

Renee's eyes widened. "Oh shoot…I think I forgot to pack my power cord!"

I laughed as I pulled the cord out of my bag and handed it to her. "Try not to lose anything really important while you're gone, okay?"

"I'll do my best. I love you, Sweetie."

"Love you too, Mom."

The first day of having the house all to your self is always the best. No matter your age, you find yourself feeling much like McCauley Caulken in Home Alone. I ran around the house with my music as loud as I wanted. I ate my meals in bed while I watched TV, feeling satisfied when the crumbs mingled with the folds in my bed sheets. I left my dirty dishes in the sink instead of rinsing them first. The next morning I would clean the messes, and reclaim my domestic responsibilities. But for one day…it was fun to act like I didn't have a care in the world.

This time around, something was different. As I scarfed down greasy foods and sat around on my butt all day, there was a gnawing feeling deep within my mind. I couldn't put my finger on where the discontentment was coming from. It bothered me for the majority of the day, until I was finally pulled from my revelry by the sound of the phone.

"Hey Rose."

"So, guess where we're going next week?"

I blinked. "Um…I wasn't aware we'd made any plans, Rose."

She huffed on the other end of the line. "Just guess already."

"The…mall?"

"Wrong! We are going to go to California for a week! We'll leave Sunday morning, and come back late afternoon the following Saturday."

"Uh…Rose. I don't think…"

"Don't you try and tell me you can't go, Bella Swan! The family that you babysit for go on vacation next week. You've got nothing better to do."

I bit my lip and glared at the ceiling. There was no redirecting Rosalie once she had a plan in mind. "Where will we stay? I don't want to pay for a hotel."

"My cousin lives in Pacific Beach. We can drive up and stay with him."

I grimaced at the thought. "You know I'm not really a beach person, Rose."

"Come on, Bella, pleassssse. We'll walk the boardwalk, and eat funnel cake, and my cousin is really cool. It'll be an adventure."

_I don't like adventure. I like couches, and take out, and my TV._

I sighed. "Ugh, fine. But I'm going to have an awful time, and when we get back, you will spend the next week making it up to me."

Knowing she had won, Rose quickly ended the conversation so she could go confirm her plans with her cousin. I was left to stew in my feelings of displeasure. The beach involved walking, bathing suits, beach babes, rides I was too big to fit on, and a slew of other non Bella-friendly activities. Plus we'd be stuck with Rose's cousin. I did not function well around males over the age of 20. They made me nervous and more socially awkward than I normally was.

I spent the rest of the day trying to think of a way to get out of the trip without incurring Rose's wrath. Unfortunately, my poor brain came up empty. I fell asleep that night with a gnawing feeling still hovering disconcertingly along the edges of my fading consciousness.

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"I'm bored!" a muffled, yet squeaky voice declared.

I looked over with mild exasperation at the pile of pillows and draped fabrics within which my charge was currently hiding. "Well then, let's think of something to do."

The pillows shifted, and I was glared at with all the fury that a four year old boy could muster. "I know what _I _want to do, but _you_ won't let me."

"You know the way it works Conner. You get a half hour of TV and a half hour of videogame time before lunch, and a half hour of each after lunch. Maybe tomorrow you won't use it all up at once."

Conner harrumphed cantankerously, his hair a blonde, rumpled mess, and his gray-blue eyes narrowed in disdain. "You're the meanest babysitter _ever_."

I tried not to smile. I was often told that I had inhuman levels of patience with kids. A child having a temper tantrum rarely ever grated on my nerves. If anything, it amused the crap out of me that they thought behavior like that would get them anywhere. "Why don't we go play outside?"

"It's boring outside," he proclaimed. "You don't like to play anything."

I felt a twinge of guilt. Despite the fact that I kept my inner child well exercised and loved playing games with Conner, physical activity just wasn't my forte. He could run for a good 15 minutes straight without getting winded, whereas I needed a break after a minute of jogging. I tried to time our outside play with when other kids on the street were out playing, but most of the children in the neighborhood were 7 or 8, and spent their summers at camp and such.

"Tell you what," I said, coming to sit next to Conner, "if we can keep ourselves occupied with books and games until lunchtime then I'll take you to Chick-Fil-A, and you can play on the playground there."

_God bless fast food chains that have playgrounds. Seriously._

Those little blue eyes lit up at the thought of chicken nuggets and the indoor playground. "Deal!" he exclaimed happily.

We amused ourselves with games of make believe and arts and crafts until noon. Then we were off to lunch, where Conner consumed 8 chicken nuggets, a bag of waffle fries, and a cookie in 15 minutes flat, before racing off to play. The little man had a blast chasing other kids through the tubes and down the slides.

By the time we got home, two hours later, he was exhausted. This made the afternoon easy and calm. Until he decided he wanted to use his half hour of television time to watch SpongeBob.

Most of the time, a caregiver or parent says no to a child for reasons involving safety, or time constraint. But sometimes…we say no for no other reason than to preserve our sanity. SpongeBob was the bane of my freaking existence. After an episode of that show from hell, Conner would be a hyper mess, running around the house and banging into things. Once, after watching an episode, he walked around doing an awful imitation of Patrick's voice while saying "Der… I'm Patrick." For an hour.

I almost cried.

Thankfully, I managed to steer the child away from the sponge of doom, instead enticing him with one of his old school Scooby Doo tapes. He was happy, I wasn't on the verge of a migraine, so it was a win-win scenario.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and Conner happily recounted our day to his mother when she got home. We exchanged a few words, and then I headed out, eager to go home and enjoy the quiet solitude of an empty house.

This plan was thwarted, when my attempt to start my truck gave me nothing but half garbled squeaks. I took a breath…checked all my buttons and settings…and tried again. The poor engine made sounds akin to that of a dying animal. I'd had this truck since I was 17, and it had been well used even then. But I wasn't ready for it to quit on me now. Then again, I couldn't sit in my employer's driveway for hours either.

"Aw come on, baby, you can do it!" I pleaded. Crossing my fingers, I tried one more time, and much to my relief, it was finally successful.

When I got home, I gave Rosalie a call and asked her if she could take a look at my poor truck. She snorted, "I'm only going to tell you what I've been telling you for the past two months, Bella. That heap of junk is on its last leg. The condition is terminal, there's nothing you can do. So don your black mourning clothes, prepare the casket…and start window shopping for a new mode of transportation."

"I really don't want to spend that kind of money right now." I said with a sigh. "Fudgerbucket."

"Bella… kiddy time is over. You're allowed to curse now."

"I can't help myself. I'm trained to say it now."

Working with little ones meant finding alternative ways of expressing oneself when it came to situations where cursing would normally be the response. For some reason…I had stitched together this word… fudgerbucket… and it now symbolized every curse in the book. People looked at me like I was crazy when it slipped out during adult conversations, but I couldn't seem to break myself of the habit.

Rose offered to take me to her mechanic, to make sure that the truck would last me until I could find a replacement. Truthfully, she sounded gleefully excited at the thought of my poor darling breathing its last mechanical breath. She said it was a piteous eyesore, and refused to ride in it. Naturally, she was right, but it was my eyesore…and for five years it had served me proudly. I was going to miss it.

The topic of conversation was switched from the impending demise of my beloved truck to our upcoming foray to California. I pretended to care as Rose gushed over all the plans she'd made with her cousin, and the details of our departure and return. And then, after dinner, Renee called to inform me of her whereabouts, and her day in Jacksonville. Hearing her voice made me feel a little better, and by the time our conversation was ended, I was feeling much more optimistic.

Change was good. Change lead to growth, and new opportunities. Maybe a new car was just what I needed. And maybe this trip to California…would be a good thing.

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"Rose…for the love of God, please put some different music on."

"I thought you liked Journey."

"I do, but not for two hours straight. I'd get sick of any group after two hours." I grimaced and leaned against the window as 'Don't Stop Believing' began to play…_again_. "Make it stop!"

Rose pouted, but dug around next to her, and handed me her booklet of CDs; technically she threw it haphazardly into my lap. Her eyes focused on the road, "I thought it would give us good vibes, listening to Journey while we're on a _journey_."

"Gosh, that's so deep, Rose," I teased, as I flipped through the music options. She gave me her bitch brow…because she was too classy for the finger.

With me in charge of the music, the next hour of our drive was accompanied with a hearty mixture of artists. Then, our rumbling tummies suggested we stop and get some food. It was a little after noon, and after running into some traffic, Rosalie's GPS said we still had another three hours to go before we reached our destination.

We stopped at a cute, homey diner. Rosalie didn't notice how every male eye in the vicinity appraised her wantonly, but I did. I also saw the way the lust in their eyes died upon seeing me, instead replaced with disgust and pity.

I hid my dissatisfaction when the waitress led us to a booth instead of a table. Just barely able to squeeze myself in, the feel of the table pushing into my gut made me uncomfortably self conscious. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a group of guys in the booth adjacent to ours were staring at Rose like she was a free all you can eat buffet. And Rose…was totally oblivious.

"What?" she inquired, upon seeing the incredulous look on my face.

"It's just not fair, the affect you have on people without even trying."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

I raised an eyebrow. _God how I love a challenge._

The waitress came, and we ordered individual entrees as well as an appetizer to split. When the waitress left, I clasped my fingers together and smiled at Rose across the table. "Ten bucks says one of the guys from that table over there will come over and hit on you before the appetizer is out. I led Rose's direction to the table, and she rolled her eyes. "You're on."

Our drinks were delivered, and I sipped on my iced tea happily as I waited. After maybe 5 minutes at the most, I became aware of one of the guys getting up out of the booth.

"Don't get overexcited, maybe he has to use the 'John'."

"Rose…nobody uses the term 'John' for the bathroom anymore. And he's coming over here."

He was tall, muscular and gorgeous. Or at least he would have been if there wasn't a cocky, egotistical twitch hidden in the corner of his mouth, and gleaming in his eyes. People don't realize how much a thought or feeling can twist the face, and mutate features until what was once beautiful was hideous.

Rose looked at me in horror. I gazed back at her with smug satisfaction. And then Mr. 'I think I'm too sexy for my shirt' opened his mouth.

"Do you have a map?"

Rose and I shared a look. This sounded like the opening to one of those awful pick up lines guys thought were charming, but really just made them look like jackasses. I silently willed Rose to play along though. I needed a good laugh.

God love her, she did play along; although it was with a heavy dose of boredom coloring her words. "No. Why?"

Sir 'I kiss my biceps goodnight before I go to bed' flashed a triumphant smile. "Because I'm getting lost in your eyes."

*Cricket…Cricket*

Rose smiled. To anyone who wasn't me, it appeared to be a gentle, perhaps even flirtatious, smile. But I knew better. This was her 'just give me a reason' smile. The one she reserved for those who pissed her off. "That's coincidental," she said, in a deceptively sweet tone, "because I'm getting lost in your massive ego."

Normally, a response like that was all Rose needed to send a guy running with his tail between his legs. But this guy had an impenetrable wall of confidence surrounding him. He laughed at Rosalie's insult, leaning towards her across the table. "I really respect a girl who knows how to deal out a verbal lashing. What are you drinking, gorgeous?"

When Rose blinked and then looked at me, I shrugged. Macho man was ignoring my presence, which was perfectly fine with me. I grabbed some metaphorical popcorn and sat back to watch the show.

My fair haired friend indicated her glass. "It's water," she answered flatly.

Her wanna-be suitor winked. "Well baby…the next one's on me." He straightened, and then sauntered…_fucking sauntered_…back to his buddies who were watching him with reverence.

Rose was silent for a moment, and the she looked up at me. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

"That was a cocky bastard who thinks he's swept you off your feet. He walked away to give the illusion that he's thrown the ball in your court."

Our appetizer arrived, and I dug in while Rose looked at me in wonder. "How did you know that was going to happen, Bella?"

I tired to leave the melancholy out of my response, but I'm sure some of it slipped through. "Because it always happens, Rose. I've know you for a long time, and I couldn't even attempt to guess at how many times I've watched you get hit on."

As we ate through the appetizer, and then our entrees, I could see Rose getting increasingly agitated. She kept shooting hostile glances at the cocky bastard, who responded with winks and smirks. I expected him to come slithering back when the waitress brought Rose a second glass of water. Yet he remained fixed in his seat. I kept trying to figure out what his strategy was, though part of me doubted he had the brain power to really formulate a strategy in the first place. Guys like him tended to function on pure ego alone.

It wasn't until we had finished our meals, and were digging out our wallets to pay the bill, that he made his move. Rosalie heaved a sigh as he approached with a cocky gait. When he reached the table, he pulled a five dollar bill out of his pocket and threw it down in front of Rose, Who consequently made a face like she was going to take the paper currency and shove it down his throat until he choked on it. "What the hell is that?" she demanded.

"I told you your next drink was gonna be on me," he replied, all sugar and spice.

_Oh you better run while you still can, pretty boy._

I saw the temper rage in Rosalie's eyes. "If you insist," she growled. Before the guy knew what was happening, she had grabbed her glass, which was still halfway full, and had emptied its contents onto his perfectly pressed, and most likely expensive, outfit. The water seeped through the denim of his jeans, making it look as if he'd urinated in his pants. I was too stunned to move.

"You bitch!" he yelled, now calling the attention of every patron and employee in the diner.

Rose stood, and though she was almost a head shorter than him, her fury seemed to give her height. "The drink is on you, just like you asked. And for future reference, you ass-mongrel… water is fucking free!" With that she stalked past him, and after putting down money for the bill and tip. I hastened to follow her.

Silence reigned as we got into the car, and Rose started the ignition. It fell heavily around us as she pulled out onto the highway, and lasted for a good five minutes after. Finally, my lips seemed to move of their own accord.

"You called him an _ass-mongrel_."

Rose's death glare softened a fraction, her lip twitching ever so slightly, and then we began to laugh; deep, guttural sounds that seemed to spring uncontrollably from somewhere deep inside of us. We laughed so hard that Rose had to pull over to the side of the road and stop the car so that she could throw her head back and roar with wild abandon. By the time we began to calm down, we were wiping tears of mirth from our eyes.

"Are we having fun yet?" I asked teasingly.

She smiled; a wide, natural grin that lit up her whole face. "Damn straight we are. Admit it; you're glad you let me talk you into this. Having finally regained her composure, she started the car and pulled out onto the highway once more.

I fiddled with the buttons of the radio and stopped at the first clear station I came across. Coincidentally, the familiar melody of 'Don't Stop Believing' spilled forth from the speakers. I removed my hand and began tapping out the beats on my thighs as I hummed along.

"I thought you were sick of Journey?" Rose observed.

My humming stopped for a moment as I pondered, and then answered with a shrug. "Changed my mind." She was right. I was having fun, and I was glad I'd agreed to come. But I'd never admit it out loud, for it was my experience that echoing sentiments of a 'so far, so good' nature was an open invitation for disaster.

**(An)-Still with me? If so...I'll see you next week.**


	3. The Being Bella Blues

**(AN)-Thank you to Missy, Dani, Ainslie, and Amber for helping me polish all the rough edges of this story. And thank you to everyone who has been reading! Your reviews and support make me smile so big I think my cheeks might fall off.**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

In the cold of the night, the fire burns bright, you long for the unseen  
On the edge of the sea, your thoughts run deep, you long for a place you've never been  
Is anybody there, is anybody there, you cry to the full moon  
As your thoughts run wild, like the thoughts of a child, you wonder if you'll be there soon  
I say slow me down, slow me down  
I want to hear the sound, slow me down

_~Anybody Out There, Civil Twilight_

Chapter Three-The Being Bella Blues

I expected California to be full of girls wearing cupcake bikinis and squirting whipped cream at Snoop Dog and his army of gummy bears. I was sorely disappointed. Guess that Katy Perry music video wasn't exactly historically accurate. There was, however, an abundance of sand, palm trees, and scantily clad, tanned girls.

_I wonder if Rose will let me live in the car for the week? _I wanted to go out into that world about as much as Satan would want to watch a marathon of Care Bears and My Little Ponies.

Rose saw the trepidation creeping across my face. "It's going to be fine, Bella. It's a vacation, not a prison sentence."

"I beg to differ."

She glared at me with motherly ferocity. "You were all optimistic and gung-ho two hours ago. What happened?"

"We got here."

I gasped as nimble fingers reached out and pinched my arm. "Do not doom this trip before it's even begun, Bella."

With a sigh, I resigned myself to the fact that she was right. If I started out surrounding myself in a cloud of negativity, I had only myself to blame if I had a bad time.

Rosalie's cousin lived in a quaint, brightly painted house, which was a ten minute walk from the beach. I hugged my arms to my chest as we pulled into the driveway. This place was too pretty, too much like something out of a magazine. I was going to stick out like a sore thumb.

Naturally, Riley Biers was as blessed in the 'looks' department as his cousin. He came out to greet us in board shorts and a sleeveless tee that barely contained his massive shoulders. He grinned widely as he strode toward us, picking Rose up like she was weightless and spinning her around. "Don't you ever wait this long to come and visit me again!"

"Hey, the road goes two ways buddy. You could come visit me."

Riley snorted. "I'm sure your parents would love that."

I had never met him before, but Rose spoke of her cousin often. At the age of 16, he'd informed his parents that he was gay. They had promptly thrown him out. He'd spent the next two years living with a friend until he'd been able to afford a place of his own. Unbeknownst to her parents, who would have disapproved to the highest extent, Rose had frequently helped him with bills when money got tight.

Now, at age 25, he had a great job, a great house, and did volunteer work at a local support group for teens. The pride on Rose's face was immense as she pulled me closer for introductions.

"Bella, this is my cousin Riley. Riley, this is Bella, the most awesome girl you'll ever meet."

I blushed and hesitantly held my hand out for a shake. Riley smiled and took it in his own, raising it up to his mouth to brush the skin there with a delicate kiss. It was with much chagrin and overall disappointment that I was forced to remind the butterflies in my stomach that he wasn't available to the female species. They ignored me and danced around like lunatics.

"Um…ummm…hi," I stammered.

_Ok, note for future reference. Bella can not function around 'boys' period; gay, straight, or otherwise oriented._

Riley helped us carry our bags to the guest bedroom, which Rose and I would be sharing. Then he gave us a tour of the spacious house and its perfectly manicured backyard; complete with a pool, Jacuzzi, and fire pit.

"So ladies, what do you want to do first? I am but your humble servant; for today at least. After that I'll be servant to my job from 9 to 5."

"Let's go to the beach!" Rose declared.

_Great. Let's do the thing I'm most dreading first. Thanks Rose._

As we readied for the beach, I stared enviously at the cute red tankini that hugged Rosalie's form. I was wearing a simple one piece, but felt so uncomfortable that I'd added a t-shirt and Bahama shorts on top.

Rose eyed my ensemble disapprovingly. "You're never going to get a tan with all that on."

"Don't be silly, you know I don't tan. I go from 'Casper the friendly ghost' white, to burnt, to white again."

"Come on, Bella. The whole point of the beach is to soak up some Vitamin D."

"Oh is it? I thought the whole point of the beach was to scam on other half clad people. Listen, Rose, I'm doing the other beachgoers a public service. Nobody wants an unobstructed view of my flabby fat folds."

Rose released a sigh of exasperation. "You know, I really wish you weren't so cruel to yourself. How do you expect anyone else to see your worth, if you don't see it yourself?"

I didn't have an answer to what was probably a valid question on her behalf, so I became decidedly interested in the fabric of the bed sheets in order to avoid further participation in the conversation.

The beach was a disorganized symphony of sounds; a cacophony of seagulls, people, and the crashing of the waves. I'd been to beaches once or twice before with Renee and found them to be intimidating and a bit boring. I didn't like to go in the water; the roiling waves always seemed to be reaching for me with hostile intent. I was too old to dig in the sand and build sandcastles, and I wouldn't if I could. Those poor sand creations were so fragile, destroyed by the tide or the careless movements of other people within moments of their birth. I didn't like that I saw myself in them.

Rose set up shop on her towel, where she would do little more than roll from back to stomach, like a piece of meat cooking on the grill, for the next hour or so. Perhaps I just didn't receive enough of the girl gene, but it didn't make sense to me. Riley was invited to join a game of volleyball, and made a valiant attempt to get me to tag along. I had to explain to him that I was so uncoordinated that just walking deemed me a hazard to myself and other innocent members of society.

The last time I'd attempted to play volleyball, I'd been a freshman in high school. The gym teacher had been unbelieving of the severity of my klutziness, despite the fact that I had a supporting letter from my middle school gym teacher. The students who had known me from middle school were smart enough to treat me like a live grenade and keep their distance. After the fourth student had been sent to the nurse, within a 15 minute period, Mr. Ford had finally relented and pulled me out of the game.

Bored out of my mind, I was forced to resort to people watching in order to pass the time; which ended up being depressing as hell. Of all the people currently in my range of vision, there were a few chunky individuals; but no one was even remotely close to being as heavy as I was.

_One of these things is not like the other; one of these things isn't the same. Great, now that'll be stuck in my head for hours. I've been watching far too much Sesame Street._

I was relieved when it was finally time to head back to the house. Riley made us a fantastically delicious dinner; some sort of breaded chicken with homemade mashed potatoes. Afterwards, Rose insisted we go for a walk along the beach.

"We were just at the beach," I observed.

"You have to see it at night Bella. It's a totally different world then."

She was right. The air was milder now that the sun had set. A gentle light emitted from the moon, giving the surrounding landscape an ethereal glow. To my ears, the sound of the waves now had a calming tone to them, instead of the intimidating roaring I'd heard earlier. Now, the darkness and lack of people created a totally different environment. It was peaceful, gentle, and it put me at ease for the first time all day.

"Therapeutic, isn't it?"

I jumped as Riley's voice startled me from my thoughts.

"Yeah, it's really nice. I have to admit I'm kind of jealous. I mean…you're not much older than me, and you have your life so together."

Riley nodded. "It wasn't easy. In the beginning, when my parent's first kicked me out, I was so angry all the time. I felt lost, and alone and unsure all the time. It's easy to feel like your place in the world has been chosen for you, and that there's no point in fighting it. But the truth is, other people only have the power to define you if you let them. Sometimes, if society doesn't have a niche laid out for you, you have to go out and carve your own, ya know?"

I sighed. "Sure, I can go have my own 'Bella is awesome' party. Maybe I'll believe it at first, but after a while the fact that I'm the only person there will start to weigh down on me. An empty room is an empty room. I mean…I have my mom, and Rose…and they mean the world to me, but it doesn't change the fact that I've never gone to a school dance, or been on a date."

"You just haven't found the right person yet."

There was no joy in the smile that flittered across my face. "You know, people keep saying that to me. It doesn't really make me feel any better though."

Riley didn't say anything after that. He simply stood with me in silence while we watched the waves. I wondered, as I tried to find solace in the churning water, if I would ever feel at home in my own skin. I wondered if there was a 'right person' for me out there. If there was, did he feel as lost in the world as I did; as broken?

Suddenly the darkness wasn't so comforting anymore. It was just empty; empty and lonely, like me. There was no peace for me to find here. I doubted that there was peace for me anywhere.

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No one can say that I didn't try to have a fun time. I tried every activity Rose and Riley suggested. Swimming was the only area where I put my foot down. I would dip my feet into Riley's pool, let the foam on the ocean waves tickle my ankles, but refused to go in any further. Rose would sigh and tell me to get over the 'Beach Bunny Blues'. That wasn't the reason, but boy did I have occasion to feel self conscious.

Riley may have had a 9 to 5 job, but that didn't stop him from having friends over every night. And apparently gay guys attracted girls as efficiently as a shoe sale at the mall. I was forever surrounded by scantily clad girls, and while Rosalie mingled with them flawlessly, I was hopelessly out of my element.

Despite my generally morose attitude, the experience truly wasn't all bad, and there were some pretty memorable moments. Rose and I spent our mornings lounging around the pool talking. We played mini golf a few times, and even though I was awful it was highly entertaining. Though the beach was mostly uncomfortable for me, there was one occasion I would always look back on fondly. Rosalie and I had packed a picnic lunch to take with us. We were sitting on our towels, enjoying our meals. I raised my hand to take a bite of my sandwich, only to have my hand become empty. Here a seagull had swooped down out of nowhere and claimed my lunch for his own. For the rest of the week, any time a seagull got close to us we would yell "sandwich stealer!" and dissolve into a fit of hysterical giggles. So yes, there were moments of honest laughter and amusement. But there was an ever growing black cloud hanging over me, and try as I might I couldn't ignore it. Forget 'Beach Bunny Blues'; I was suffering from 'The Being Bella Blues'.

My weight and lack of physical fitness was a major hindrance. Just keeping up with Rosalie on the boardwalk was hell. I mean, grandmas on power scooters moved faster than me. People stared and laughed when I bumped into others. Worst of all, I put a damper on Rose's plans; needing to stop and rest every other minute, being unable to go as far as she could go. But most embarrassing was the night we went walking with Riley and his friends. I stumbled on the tramcar tracks, and into an unsuspecting gentleman, who was not forgiving of my klutziness. He called me a fat bitch, and Riley, who was already rowdy due to a few beers, jumped to my defense. It was all his friends could do to keep a nasty altercation from brewing. I was mortified and guilt ridden for the rest of the week.

I thought I had gotten as close to the 'finding a rock to hide under' level of embarrassment as possible. Then Thursday, Riley insisted we head over to Mission Beach; which sort of melted into Pacific Beach. He had been horrified to learn that I had never been to an amusement park, and sought to remedy that at once.

Cotton candy became my new best friend. I sucked at the carnival games, but Rosalie won a shit ton of stuff. Cotton candy then became my worst enemy after we finished with bumper cars. I was having fun, till Riley suggested we go on the park's well known roller coaster, the Great Dipper. He boasted that it was one of the first roller coasters on the west coast. This did not make me eager to ride. But I found my nerve and followed the others into the line.

Being an older ride, I expressed concern that I wouldn't be able to fit. Riley told me not to worry. I did anyway. When we got to the front of the line, I saw that the cars of the roller coaster had simple lap bars. It looked easy enough. Rose and I got into the first car, while Riley and his friends took up the three cars behind us. I sat down and Rose barely squished herself in next to me. The nervousness came back full force. A voice over the intercom told us to pull down the lap bars. I heard Rosalie's click into place effortlessly.

_Oh no._

I struggled to suck my gut in and pull the bar down. But I couldn't get it to click. Two attendants were coming down each side of the coaster, doing safety checks.

_Oh God, please click, please click._

The attendant on my side was two cars behind me.

_Click you stupid metal piece of crap!_

The bored looking teenager was next to me now. I wished for some sort of flying object to come take me out. The guy grabbed my lap bar with two hands and roughly pulled it into my stomach. Close, but no cigar. I could feel the stares now.

_I will not cry, I will not cry._

"Miss, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to get off."

_That's cool. As long as there's someone waiting to bludgeon me to death on the platform._

"Bella?"

I could hear the impatient sighs, the whispers of the other passengers and those waiting in line. Them I could deal with. But I knew I'd lose it if I saw the look of pity on Rosalie's face.

Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, I struggled to find an encouraging smile to flash at Rose, looking towards her without meeting her eyes. "Stay on the ride. I'll wait for you guys down at the exit."

I could feel the embarrassed flush, bleeding across my face; my stomach felt twisted and my head dizzy as I hauled myself up onto the platform. Without looking at anyone, I marched my way to the exit, and shakily took the stairs down to the ground. I found a bench within view of the exit and sat down, trying to breathe my way through the sobs that were curdling in my chest.

I did not cry.

The others didn't say a word when they got off the ride, though Rose glanced at me worriedly the rest of the night. I was quiet and tense until we left the brightness and noise of the park behind us, and returned home. I could tell Rose wanted to talk, but I didn't want to hear her well meaning words of comfort. Changing into my pajamas, I sought the silent comfort of cool sheets and a soft pillow.

Only when Rosalie's breathing had evened out into sleep, did I let the muted tears fall.

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Riley and Rose tiptoed around me the next morning; as if I'd crumble to pieces if they breathed too loud. For all I knew, maybe I would have. Once Riley had left for work, Rose did her best to lighten the mood. We stayed in the house, playing card games and watching Sci-Fi movies that were so bad they ended up being funny. That was how Rosalie worked. When things were bad she didn't go for deep, soul searching conversations. That was left to the depresse-e to start. Until otherwise signaled, Rose went for the subtle approach. One would suddenly stop and wonder 'hey, when did I start feeling better?' There was this uplifting and vibrant energy to her, which sunk under your skin and cheered you up without you even realizing.

We puttered around the house noncommittally until Riley got home from work. Since it was our last night before Rose and I headed back to Phoenix, it was going to be just the three of us. He made an awesome dinner out on the patio grill; ribs, corn, baked potatoes and some homemade coleslaw.

Afterwards, my two companions went for a dip in the pool while I sat on the side and soaked my toes.

"Seriously, Bella. What's with your aversion to water?" Riley asked, grabbing onto my legs teasingly. I jolted back, afraid he was going to pull me in.

"I just don't like the whole submerged, weightless feeling," I said defensively.

Riley gave me a look that said he didn't think he was getting the whole story, but didn't pursue it.

"Hey," Rose called. I turned my head and saw she had left the pool and was drying off by her chair. "Since it's our last night and all we should celebrate."

"We're leaving early tomorrow, Rose." I warned.

She gave me her 'don't be such a party pooper' smile. "Just one drink never hurt anyone." she answered, as she disappeared inside the house.

There was a splash of water across my legs as Riley hoisted himself to sit next to me. "I'm not the type to stick my nose where it doesn't belong," he said softly, "but I know a wall when I see it, and I just want you to know that I'm a really good listener."

I fidgeted uncomfortably, staring at the way my feet were distorted beneath the blue liquid of the pool. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I was overwhelmed by the desire to tell him; which was unusual for me.

"When I was 12, my mom went through this phase where she wanted to be a daycare teacher. So she got a job at this place, and in the summer she enrolled me in their summer school program. I was the eldest there, and one of only two girls out of 14 kids. The camp counselors took us to this public pool once a week to go swimming, and well…the other kids didn't like me very much. One day at the pool, a group of boys ganged up on me, and held me down under the water and…"

I paused for a moment, to take a shaky breath, "I thought I was going to die. I could hear them laughing above me, and the water distorted the sound in this creepy way. They finally let me up, and when I told the counselors they told me not to be a tattle tale, and that boys will be boys. So I…never told anyone…not even Rose. Mostly because I was embarrassed that I'd been harassed like that by a bunch of 9 and 10 year olds. Ever since then I just don't feel comfortable in big bodies of water. It just…gets me panicked."

Riley was silent for a moment, his eyes on the windows to the house, through which we could see Rosalie putting the finishing touches on our drinks. He leaned over and put his hand on mine. "I'm sorry that happened to you Bella. I hope karma kicked those little punks in the ass."

I smiled slightly, and lowered my eyes. "It wasn't the first time shit like that happened, and it wasn't the last. I'm an open target, not easily missed."

"You guys look too serious." Rose was approaching us with the drinks she had made.

They looked to be rum and cokes, complete with lemon wedges on the rim. The again, with Rosalie you could never be sure. I took the glass she offered me and sipped carefully. When the flavor hit my tongue I grimaced and swallowed quickly. "God Rose, do you like a little Coke with your rum?"

"I said I was only having one. Figured I needed to make it count," she said with a wink.

_She is so lucky I love her._

The rest of the night was calm, and quiet. We took one last moonlight walk along the beach. I kept looking out at the water, with this growing feeling in my chest; the feeling that I was looking for something, but didn't know what it was. I felt like I was missing something without knowing what part of me had a hole in it. There was something maddening, yet strangely freeing about it. Because identifying that there is a problem is the first step to solving it.

_Right?_

We left early Saturday morning, pumped up on about 4 cups of coffee each. I believe that there is some magical law of physics that makes all return trips home feel like they are ten times longer than the trip to the vacation spot. I was so relieved to get out of the car and on my feet when Rose dropped me off, that I spent the next hour walking around the house to stretch my stiff limbs.

Around noon I ordered out for some Chinese, the fridge having been left rather empty for my week long excursion. I happily dug into my sweet and sour chicken and vegetable lo mien, but my enjoyment was interrupted as I heard the sound of my phone ringing. When I was unable to find the source of the noise I began to frantically search. It wasn't in my coat pocket…it wasn't in my purse….where the heck had it gone? The ringtone cut off, most likely gone to voicemail, but after a few moments it started back up again.

I finally located it, hidden between the cushion of the couch.

"Hello?"

"Is this Isabella, Isabella Swan?"

I frowned. "Yes, this is she. May I ask who is calling?"

"This is Billy Black. I'm…I'm a friend of your father's."

I knew the name was familiar; Charlie talked about him all the time, but it had been so long since I'd been over to Forks that I couldn't put a face to the name. In any case, why was he calling me? How had he even gotten my number?

"Um… Hi, Billy. What's up? Is everything okay?"

"Bella, I'm at Forks Hospital right now. Your father…"

After that, I heard only garbled Charlie Brown speak. Ice filled my veins and shattered inside of me, sending shards into every cell of my body.

"Bella? Bella are you there?"

My mouth…I needed to move it. But it was frozen…I was frozen…and if I moved...I would surely shatter.

"Yes…I…what's wrong? Is Char…is my dad okay?"

"I don't know, Bella. He's had a heart attack. He's…with the doctors now."

Ice. I was ice; hard and cold and numb.

I finally forced words to pass through my frosted lips, though they were choppy and shaking. "I'm on my way!"

**(AN) When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them is in a competition on The Lemonade Stand blog, to determine three fics that will get rec'd next week. If you are so inclined, you can vote for me, or any of the other amazing authors at www . tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com (Make sure to remove the spaces). I will see you guys next week!**


	4. Helpless

**(AN) So...this will come as a shock to you guys but, I am not Stephenie Meyer. I know...I know you are beyond yourselves with surprise right now. Dry your tears and it will be okay, I promise.**

**In all seriousness...thank you so much for the warm support you have given this story. Every review goes straight to my heart, and every hit on my stats page gives me butterflies of excitement in my stomach.**

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When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

Out on my window ledge  
I don't feel safe  
And I stay  
Looking down on you

It's out of my hands for now  
It's out of my hands for now

I can't just walk away  
Be nice to walk away  
But I don't feel safe  
Get away, all the way up here

Its out of my hands for now  
Its out of my hands for now

~Out Of My Hands, Dave Matthews Band

Chapter Four-Helpless

"Bella, you know I love you, and I understand that you're freaking out right now, but you have got to calm down. You're making me so nervous with your fidgeting that I'm about to drive off the road."

I tried to take a calming breath, but it sounded more like a panicked wheeze. Rose was saving my ass right now, and I didn't need to make it any harder on her than it already was.

After I'd gotten the news about Charlie, I had pumped Billy for all the details, trying to make the blood stop rushing in my ears, so that I could hear what he was saying. As soon as the line had cleared up, I had called Rose, dissolving into a bout of hysteria the minute she picked up. I don't know how she discerned the situation from my garbled whimpers and sobs, but a NASCAR driver couldn't have gotten to my house as fast as she did. Being the most epically awesome friend in the history of friend-doms, she had proceeded to take care of everything; booking a flight to Seattle, procuring a rental car to get us from Seattle to Forks, all while simultaneously keeping me from succumbing to a full on panic attack.

I honestly don't know what I would have done without her.

It wasn't her fault that time was moving too slowly. It felt like weeks, months, since I'd received Billy's phone call. In actual fact, it was a two hour flight, followed by a 3 ½ hour car drive, and it was pulling loose the last pieces of my frazzled nerves. When I finally saw the sign welcoming us to Forks, I nearly cried as a mixture of emotions washed over me. I'm not sure how I managed to feel both relieved and anxious at the same time, but I seem to be a master of playing host to conflicting feelings.

Forks was a small town with a population of 3,120, and once we made it into town we found our way to the hospital quickly. I moved at an uncharacteristically quick pace across the parking lot, flying into the hospital lobby like a bat out of hell. Billy had said that he would meet me here, and so my frenzied gaze scanned the lobby, looking for a vaguely familiar face.

"Bella."

Over the phone, it had been difficult to attach a face to the name. It had been 11 years since I'd last come to Forks for summer visits with my father. For a few years he'd agreed to come see me in Phoenix, but it had been obvious that we were both miserable in climates so drastically different from our homes. Physical visits had turned into phone calls, and phone calls had faded into email communications, and then finally we'd been reduced to cards on Christmas and birthdays. And so I'd forgotten many of the faces I'd once been fairly familiar with.

Memories came flooding back, however, when the russet skinned man with long black hair began wheeling his chair towards me, with a strained but friendly smile on his face.

"How is he Billy?" I was panting from my jaunt across the parking lot, and with the added fear laced within my voice, my words came up choppy and unstable.

His voice was gruff when he responded. "He looks like he's been run over by a truck or two, but the doctors say he's doing well."

Rose squeezed my hand and informed me she was going to stop by the cafeteria and grab us some food, while I followed Billy into the elevator and to the Cardiac Unit. My discomfort levels were at an all time high. Hospitals gave me the heebie jeebies faster than a horror film. Billy said he wanted to give me alone time with Charlie, and opted to wait outside while I visited.

I hovered outside the door indecisively, perhaps it was guilt that held me back, or fear; maybe both. It had been so long since I'd seen my father face to face, and I was nervous. But this wasn't about me…it was about Charlie, so I braced myself and entered the room.

"Ch…Dad?"

At first there was silence, but when I took a few steps into the room, soft, deep breathing answered me. I ghosted my way to my father's bedside, and stared down at his sleeping form, he looked so pale and weak against the pallid hospital sheets. The beeping, blinking machinery was intimidating, and made him look so small. Was all this normal for someone who had suffered a heart attack, or was Charlie worse off than I was being led to believe? I felt all the strength seep from my bones, and sank wearily into the chair, scooting it closer to the bed. Slowly, I reached out and grabbed his hand, my thumb gently smoothing the calloused roughness of his skin.

Time passed…minutes…hours…it felt like days. My eyes were glued to the rhythmic movement of Charlie's chest, the husky whispers of his breath. It was as if I feared that averting my eyes for even the tiniest of seconds would cause those movements, those precious sounds, to cease. Images flashed through my mind's eye, like snap shots in a family album; Charlie holding an infant version of my self, his face beaming with adoration as he awkwardly coddled my tiny form; Charlie and a child version of my self going fishing on the lake, his gentle hands covering my own as he guided me and helped me hold my fishing rod.

If eyes are the windows to the soul, then tears are raindrops, sliding down the windows on a gray, melancholy day.

I was startled out of my thoughts by a movement in the doorway. I looked up to see a man in a white doctor's coat entering the room with a chart in his hand. He looked to be in his late 40's, but was devilishly handsome despite his age, with blonde hair and gentle, blue eyes. He smiled when he saw me.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Swan's daughter, Isabella."

I nodded. "How's my father Dr…" I quickly snuck a peek at his nametag, "Dr. Cullen?"

"Well Miss Swan, your father experienced a severe heart attack. But he's doing remarkably well considering. We've checked his Troponin levels to confirm the heart attack and run some tests, and it seems your father has Coronary Artery Disease."

"He's…he's got a disease? That's like…really bad right?"

"Coronary Artery Disease is a narrowing of the small blood vessels that supply oxygen to the heart. It's caused by a buildup of plaque and fatty waste that collects in the vessels and leaves less room for the blood to get through. Unchecked and untreated, the condition can get very severe, but with the proper treatment we should be able to get your father sorted out."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "So…what do we do to fix it?"

"Your father's blood vessels are in bad shape. In some of the more severe vessels we're going to put what's called a stent. It's a mesh tube that is inserted into the arteries to keep them open. We're also going to put him on blood thinners, some medications to lower blood pressure and a diet and exercise plan. The heart is a very delicate organ Miss Swan. We have every reason to believe you're father will recover, but it will take time. Average recovery times for these sorts of traumas are usually between three and four months."

All of my breath whooshed out of me like a hurricane. Before I could pull myself together enough to think of another question to ask, Rose timidly entered the room. "Hey Bella, I brought you some dinner. You should really eat something."

I reluctantly accepted the styrofoam take out box, as Rose sat down in a chair in the other corner, glaring down at the contents of her box with little zeal or appeal. Upon opening the lid to my meal, I was greeted with a sorry excuse for a cheeseburger; I mean…McDonald's stuff looked more edible, and then there was a small side of runny applesauce.

I raised an eyebrow at Rose, "I'm gonna sit here and eat a cheeseburger…next to my dad…who just had a heart attack?"

She shrugged. "It was the only thing that didn't look like it had been sitting out there for a week."

I picked up the dejected excuse for a burger. "It looks like it's gonna kill me if I eat it."

Dr. Cullen chuckled as he looked over my father's chart and checked his monitors. "Our cafeteria is certainly not of a five star restaurant quality, but rest assured, it won't kill you."

A small smile flickered across my face. "Is that your professional or personal opinion, Doctor?"

"Both," he answered pleasantly. He started to head towards the door, and I turned to look at Rose, who was busily working her fancy phone.

"Whatcha doing, Rose?"

"Trying to figure out where we're gonna sleep tonight."

We'd discussed this during the car ride here. Rose had asked why we couldn't just stay at Charlie's house. I'd cited that I was going to use his bedroom, because that was creepy, and my old bedroom was probably a home office or a game room by now. The couch was the only thing left, and two people couldn't sleep comfortably on the old two-seater. Besides that, if Charlie was able to come home relatively soon, I knew I would want to stay and make sure he was settled, and there was no way three people could function in that tiny house.

Rose let it go, but I knew she'd caught on to my unspoken thoughts. I didn't want to be surrounded by Charlie, by all of the belongings I feared he wouldn't be coming home too.

"Might I offer a suggestion?" I jumped a little at the sound of Dr. Cullen's voice. He was lingering in the doorway, his body turned back towards the room.

"Um, sure."

"My wife and I have a guest house on our property which we'd be more than happy to rent to you during your stay. It's not quite _luxurious_, and we're still completing repairs, but it should serve you well for the duration of your stay."

_People in small towns are so damn friendly. We need to start sending whatever these folks are drinking to the people in big cities._

"I really appreciate the offer, Doctor," I answered with genuine feeling. "Could I have a few minutes to think about it?"

"Of course." He nodded and gave me directions to his office, so that I could come and find him if I decided to accept his offer. As he left the room, Rose sat forward in her chair and looked at me incredulously. "What are you doing? That's going to be a hell of a lot cheaper than a hotel, Bella."

"Rose, you don't have to be here. You can go home."

She paused…and I watched her face get that hard, porcelain look that it always got right before she bitched someone out. "Do you REALLY think that I would come all the way up here and then just LEAVE you? What the hell kind of person do you think I am?"

I shook my head. "You've already done too much, Rose. The Doctor said that Charlie's going to need three to four months to recover. I…I have to stay with him. I know him, and he won't take care of himself the way he should unless there's someone to keep an eye on him. I can't ask you to stay here with me for that long."

Her eyes narrowed and she shot me with a steely gaze. "Have you thought this through at all? Where will you stay all by yourself? How are you going to afford to live for four months?"

"I'm not going to ask you to stay so that I can steal money from you."

"Damn it, Bella! It's not stealing if I offer it to you. I swear to God you are too moral for your own good. Listen to me. I am staying. This isn't a vacation or some luxury getaway. It's a family emergency. You are family to me, more than any person who shares my DNA, and I will give anything I can to help you get through this."

My voice was small and timid. "But it's not your money Rose; it's your parents'."

A sarcastic snort filled the room. "You think they give a shit? This is all pocket change to them, sweetie. I could spend $2,000 a month and they wouldn't care as long as I didn't bother them."

That's when I lost it. Many tears had traveled a path from my eyes to my chin since I'd heard about my father. But this was the first time I'd lost all semblance of control. The sobs tore through me, curdled in my throat, and seeped from every pore. Rose was by my side in a flash, wrapping her arms around me and holding me tightly.

"Bells?"

The voice was soft, and I barely heard it over the sound of my hysterics. Rose pulled back, and I peered over her shoulder to see that my father had turned towards me, his eyes blinking sleepily.

"I'm gonna go talk to Dr. Cullen about the guest house," Rose whispered softly in my ear. I nodded.

"Bells…you're here."

He was groggy, but gaining coherence. I leaned forward, trying quickly to erase the evidence of my distress, and gently grabbed a hold of his hand. "Of course I'm here Daddy."

_God, I hadn't called him Daddy since I was small._

Smiling, he squeezed my hand gently. "You didn't have to come all the way up here for little old me, Bells."

"You're my dad. Of course I did." I hesitated for a moment. "Did…did you talk to the Doctor?"

There was a minute nod of his head. "This morning. He told me I'll be needing some sort of tube put in to help my blood flow. Easy as pie…I'll be healthy as a horse again in no time."

I chuckled at his nonchalant attitude. "You really did a number on yourself, Dad. But don't you worry, I'm gonna stay here until you're better."

"Hmph…you mean you're gonna coddle me."

"I'm going to make sure you lay off the steak and cobbler at the diner every other night."

He gave a slight laugh, but the exhaustion was clear on his face and his eyes began fluttering closed again.

"You get some rest, Dad. I'll come see you again tomorrow."

Leaning forward, I let my lips brush gently against the weathered skin of his forehead. Gathering up my things, I left as quietly as I could, pausing in the doorway to whisper a soft "I love you" that only I could hear. It still felt good to say it though.

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By the time I found Rose, she'd sorted out all of the details with Dr. Cullen. He'd given her directions to the guest house, as he'd be at the hospital for another 5 hours at least. We'd followed the directions well enough while traveling on the main roads, but found ourselves scrambling when we had to look out for smaller back-roads whose names were obscured by the absurd amounts of foliage.

After a few wrong turns, and arguments over the correct interpretation of Dr. Cullen's handwriting, we found ourselves driving towards an impressively grand house. This was obviously the main house, and we followed a small road past it, back a mile or so on the property.

The guest house was not modern, and certainly not as grand as the abode we had just passed. It was a modest, single story home, obviously fashioned sometime in the 1950's. As Dr. Cullen had said, it was still being renovated; the paint was fading and peeled, and the lawn, while not overgrown, did not boast the same mossy green color as the other homes in the area. Despite its run-down appearance, I found it's 'time capsule' vibe to be rather charming.

We pulled into a small gravel driveway, and released grateful sighs at the prospect of being at our final destination. From the car, I could see a woman sitting on the porch steps. As Rose and I got out of the car, she stood and came to greet us. A heart shaped face encased a warm smile, and soft grey-blue eyes. She had dark hair which cascaded down her shoulders, adding to the warm, motherly vibe she was exuding. She greeted us in a soft and soothing alto tone.

"Welcome. I'm Esme Cullen." Reaching me, she gave a quick appraisal before leaning in to wrap me in a gentle hug. "You must be Bella; you have your father's eyes. How is he?"

"Um, he's doing alright," I murmured. "Thank you so much for this offer, Mrs. Cullen."

"Please, call me Esme," she answered, squeezing my shoulder. After giving Rosalie an equally warm welcome, she helped us with our bags, and gave us a tour of the house; which was much more spacious than it had appeared from the outside. The walls were painted in varying shades of cream and peach, with dark wood flooring and white trim.

The front door opened into an inviting living room, with a brick fireplace and an impressive entertainment center. An archway beckoned us forward, into a moderately sized dining room, which in turn lead us to a galley style kitchen adorned with teal walls and white cabinets. The teal walls kind of threw me off, but at least the appliances were considerably modern.

Both a door from the kitchen and a door next to the living room fireplace opened into a hallway, which hosted the linen closet, the laundry area, a bathroom, and lead us to three bedrooms.

An epic battle ensued, during which Rose insisted I take the master bedroom. I countered with the argument that she had made more than enough sacrifices for me regarding this trip, and that if she didn't want me to perish in the fires of my tragically painful guilt she would take the master. It was one of the few times I ever won an argument with Rosalie Hale. However, the glare in her eyes told me I'd be paying for it later.

Esme took us back into the kitchen, where she proceeded to show us that she had stocked our fridge and cupboards with some basic supplies to hold us over, at least until we had time to get to the grocery store.

She proceeded to tell us about the house, how it had been the main house on the property when they'd bought it. Dr. Cullen's original intentions had been to tear it down, but his wife had not been able to bear the thought of destroying a piece of history. It had been used as a guest house for when their parents had come to visit, but hadn't been used in almost ten years.

Giving us another round of hugs, and informing us that she worked from home and that we were to come to her if we should need anything, Mrs. Cullen took her leave. This left me with nothing to do but my least favorite activity known to man…unpacking. The room I picked consisted of an unexpectedly comfortable queen bed, a desk, a bedside table, and a dresser. The whole house was a rather delicate balance of emptiness, and familiarity. Esme had picked simple furniture pieces, most likely in the hopes that they would speak comfort to all who used them. They did. It was like the house had the feel of a partially painted canvas; blank enough to appeal to a general and wide public, but not so barren that it overwhelmed you with all the possibilities.

After a while, the weariness of the day began to take its toll. Rose and I ate in tired silence, a dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches and some homemade tomato soup. We also partook of some lemon drop cookies, courtesy of a goody basket Esme had left us on the kitchen counter.

We retired to bed far earlier than we would have if we were back home in Phoenix. It was so eerily quiet, yet so noisy at the same time. The house creaked, and groaned, and I am not ashamed to admit that my 23 year old butt got a bad case of the heebie jeebies. The mixture of being in a strange place, and the overwhelming amount of fear running through my veins kept my mind wide awake despite my body's exhaustion. I don't know how long I lingered under the cool sheets, unwilling to look at the clock beside me before I couldn't take the stillness anymore.

Trying to avoid any creaky floorboards, I headed back out into the living room. Upon opening the hallway door, I found my eyes invaded with bright light, despite being aware I'd turned off all the lights as I went to bed. When my eyes adjusted, I realized that Rose was sitting on the couch, a book in hand, looking as uncomfortable and 'sleepy-but-awake' as I was.

"Hey," she said softly, attempting to give me an encouraging smile.

The simple, harmless word caused me to lose it, for the second time in one day. Somehow, my feet made it to the couch, where I collapsed and released my emotions onto Rosalie's shoulders, in the form of loud, unapologetic sobs.

It occurred to me…that this wasn't just about my father. Seeing him there on that hospital bed, looking as if he were at the brink of death's door had scared the crap out of me. If Charlie, a considerably active, supposedly healthy man, could get so sick…what did my future hold for me? Would I be in a hospital bed soon, looking pale and weak and fragile? I was afraid; for my father...and for myself.

Eventually, my sobs turned into sniffles, which then turned into hiccups, and finally… shifted into the quiet breaths of slumber.

**(AN) I know this chapter was low on the funnies, but we've got to experience the low's if we can celebrate the eventual high moments.**

**I will see you guys next week. If the incessant snow and ice doesn't take me out first, that is. **


	5. In This Skin

**(AN)-Disclaimer: I do not own any publicly recognizable plot or characters. No copy-right infringement is intended.**

**I don't even own my heart anymore. It belongs to you guys. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. The fact that you want to share in this journey with me means more than I could express without the use of a flow chart and graphs and a whole bunch of other stuff that I don't have the time to make. **

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

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Paper thin convection

Turning another page,

Plotting how to build myself to be

Everything that I am not at all.

Sometimes I get tired of pins and needles,

Facades are a fire on the skin.

And I'm growing fond of broken people,

As I see that I am one of them

~Pins and Needles, Mutemath

Chapter Five- In This Skin

The next morning, Rose and I set out to Charlie's house. Our mission was to clean out his fridge so nothing festered, and to procure a few items to bring to him at the hospital. As we pulled into the driveway, I spotted an old Chevy truck. If it was in working order, maybe I could ask Charlie if I could borrow it. That way Rose wouldn't have to play my chauffer for the next 3 or 4 months. If Forks was anything like my childhood memories, it didn't offer a whole lot in the way of entertainment, but Rose could take a drive up to Port Angeles. When I mentioned my idea to her, she scoffed, and wrinkled her nose at the faded red Chevy.

"Really, Bella, I worry about your taste in vehicles. The truck you left in Phoenix was bad enough, but this lawn ornament? It's practically prehistoric!"

"As long as it can get me from Point A to Point B, I don't care if it's from the Mesozoic era." I replied as we walked up the front steps.

I checked under the welcome mat for the spare key which I knew would be there. It wasn't as if Charlie needed to hide it. This neighborhood was the type that was so safe you could leave your homes unlocked without concern. It was like a really wet, moss-ridden version of Pleasantville.

When I opened the front door, I expected what anyone would expect when entering the home of a single male. I expected a disaster area. But while the furniture was in poor shape, and a few beer cans had been left on kitchen table, it was relatively clean.

"Your dad is really clean." Rosalie remarked, staring around in awe.

"He's usually at work, or fishing the majority of the time," I answered with a small smile.

I got Rose started on cleaning out the fridge, throwing anything away that would perish relatively soon. She didn't have much to work with, though. Apparently my father's food shopping consisted mainly of beer and microwaveable dinners.

With a shake of my head, I headed upstairs to get Charlie some creature comforts. I paused at the top of the stairs, my eyes roaming to the door of what had been my bedroom, which was slightly ajar. I tiptoed towards it, and gently urged the door further forward, stepping in for a peek. A soft gasp fluttered past my lips.

When their children are no longer in need of their bedrooms, most parents take the opportunity to turn it into an office space, game room, or a home gym. I hadn't been to Forks since I was 11 years old, but Charlie had left my room untouched, a time capsule of my youth. The small, single bed was covered by the same purple polka dotted sheets and frilly pillows that had encased me when I'd believed in the Boogey Man and Santa Claus. On the purple walls hung drawings from the mind of a child who believed in Unicorns and endless possibilities. Some of my old toys lingered, forgotten and unused, in the corners; relics of my past.

Guilt ate away at me, as I stared at the proof of my long absence from my father's life. I had a flash back of one of my last visits here; Charlie had wanted to take me fishing but I had vehemently protested, much preferring to stay home and watch the television. The visit had felt like a burden to me, and I had selfishly squandered my time with him; time that had become dangerously close to being cut off.

I was torn from my guilty reminiscing by the vibration of my cell phone in my pocket. Renee's ringtones wafted, muted, through the denim of my jeans. I hadn't had the presence of mind to call and inform her.

"Hey, Mom."

"Bella, where are you? I called the house phone last night and this morning, and you didn't answer."

"Um…I'm not in Phoenix, Mom. I'm…" I couldn't keep my voice even, "I'm in Forks. With dad. He had a heart attack."

The other end of the line was silent.

"Mom, did you hear me?"

Renee's voice answered, sounding soft and unsure. "Yes…I heard you. Is…how is he?"

"The doctors think he should recover okay. It's going to take some time though, three or four months. I'm…I'm gonna stay, Mom. I can't leave him here, you know he won't take care of himself the way he should."

"Yes, you're probably right. Are you…where are you staying?" She didn't sound like a mother checking up on the condition of her child, but like a younger sister, looking up to me for affirmation that things were fine and she didn't need to worry. Most of the time I was okay with that…but right now…I wanted her to be the strong one. I wanted her to tell me it would be okay. I needed her to step up to the plate and be the grown-up.

I brought Renee up to speed on my situation, explaining my plan of action. She seemed exceedingly happy that Rosalie was with me. Perhaps it made her feel like she had an excuse to not step up to the plate herself. After a few more minutes, I couldn't stand the awkwardness of the conversation anymore. My mother sounded relieved when I said I needed to go. The absence of sympathy, of a responsibility to comfort her terrified child, left me with an angry feeling, deep in the pits of my insides.

After gathering the requested supplies for Charlie, Rose and I headed to the hospital. He was feeling tired, so our visit didn't last long. He was getting his stints put in tomorrow, and I wanted him to get as much rest as possible. With his blessing to use the old truck, which he said ran like a beauty, and the whereabouts of the keys explained, we left my father to get his rest.

Rosalie took a look at the truck, and confirmed that it would 'run well enough for a lawn ornament'. I smiled and sent her home, opting to handle grocery shopping on my own. The too small aisles and mass amounts of rude jerks that filled them were hard enough to deal with without having another person with you that you needed to communicate with.

But then again…I was in a small town…in the middle of nowhere. As I pulled into a parking space outside the grocery store, I took stock of the maybe six cars that were there. Well Forks had one thing going for it.

The curse of a small town however, is that everyone knows everyone; especially the Police Chief. So the few people I came across in the aisles immediately guessed who I was, and ran over to say hello, ask me how my father was, and send him well wishes. Their concern was sweet, but it kind of elongated my shopping trip. Then again, if I had to weigh my options, I'd pick some well wishing townspeople over an aggressive granny with a cart any day.

I left the store in a much improved mood and slowly surveyed the rest of the shopping centre. There was a pharmacy, a nail salon, a Chinese take out place, and nestled in between a _Dunkin Donuts_ and an ice cream parlor, was a gym. The irony of this placement caused me to release a loud chuckle as I put my groceries in the car.

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"Bells, you can't sit in my room for the next three months. I'm fine… go, have some fun."

I crossed my arms and leaned back further into the chair. Charlie's stints had been successfully placed early this morning, and I'd been sitting with him for some 3 or 4 hours now. "This is fun."

My father harrumphed cantankerously. "You enjoy watching fishing on the television? Darling, I messed up my heart, not my brain. Get out of here and go do something with Rose. Your hovering is driving me nuts." He gave me his police chief stink eye until I reluctantly gathered my things and shuffled out the door.

Rosalie jumped up and down like an excited puppy when I walked in the door. If she had been a dog, her tail would have been wagging like an out of control pendulum. "Let's go shopping!"

The look on my face was probably akin to the look on a child's face when you told them they had to eat all their vegetables at dinner.

But Rosalie Hale was not easily deterred when she was on a mission.

She fluttered in front of me determinately, her big blue eyes wide with excitement at the prospect of clothes and shoes and purses. "Come on, Bella! Therapeutic shopping…it's good for the soul. I _really_ want to go to Port Angeles."

I decided it was better for me to raise the white flag of surrender, or else Rose would torture me for the rest of the night. "Ugh fine. But we're ending the night with a movie and I get to choose."

"Deal!" Rose agreed, the triumph of victory coloring her voice.

I'm not the kind of girl that likes shopping, probably for obvious reasons. Add on top of that natural hatred the fact that Rosalie was always attempting to get me to try on all sorts of things outside of my comfort zone, and it was a recipe for disaster. Port Angeles only had one clothing store that offered products in my size, and they were the kind of clothes that were so tacky my grandma wouldn't even wear them. This gave me an excuse to abstain from trying anything on, instead following Rosalie about while she modeled outfit after outfit. Mercifully, she grew bored after an hour, which was more like five minutes in 'Rose shopping time'.

We went to dinner at a small restaurant that offered possibly the best mushroom ravioli I had ever eaten. Rosalie didn't eat much of her lemon-butter salmon, she was too busy getting rid of the handful of guys that walked up to hit on her.

I stabbed at my meal sullenly. "It's like you have a freaking magnet in you."

"Yeah, it's called confidence." Rosalie answered. "If you'd sit up instead of slouching, and wear something that accentuated your assets, you'd be fine."

This made me roll my eyes. "Oh yeah…revealing more of my stretch mark covered, lumpy flesh would really get me more traffic."

"That! That damn defeated, bitter attitude, Bella! That's what's holding you back. You don't think there are any plus sized girls in the world who have boyfriends, and success, and fulfillment? You know I love you, but sometimes the only one making you a victim is yourself, and you're never going to get anywhere if you don't stop."

"Wow, Rose, when did you turn into Dr. Phil?"

I was answered with an irritated sigh. We finished the rest of our dinner in uneasy silence.

We headed to the movie theater, but the only film I'd really wanted to see apparently wasn't showing anymore. I tended to lose track of current films, and this wasn't the first time I'd gone somewhere intending to see a film that had been out of theaters for months.

Not ready to go home yet, Rosalie suggested we just walk around and look for any interesting shops. There was a homemade jewelry shop that we browsed in for a while. I found a gorgeous locket necklace that hung low, with a tiny key charm next to it. The front of the locket was made up of curled twists of metal colored a gorgeous, antique kind of bronze. I was tempted to buy it, but ended up leaving it behind. I didn't buy nice things. In fact, I didn't own any jewelry. I tended to wear frumpy, ill fitted clothing, and adding a nice necklace on top just seemed a bit ridiculous.

Rosalie ended up leading us into a bookstore next. I was surprised by the size of it. Rose went off in search of a new romance novel that had come out, while I meandered about without intent. As I weaved in and out of book aisles, I began to let my mind wander. I kept thinking about what Rose had said at dinner. When I looked up again, I realized I was standing in the health section of the store, in front of a row of shelves marked 'Diet and Nutrition'.

_Way to be subtle subconscious. Fine, you win._

Except it wasn't that easy. The range and titles of the books left me extremely overwhelmed. Some sounded ridiculously Zen, boasting titles like "A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever". _What?_ Then there were the 'sounds too good to be true' titles, such as "The Belly Fat Cure: Discover the New Carb Swap System and Lose 4 to 9 lbs. Every Week" _Really?_ If it were possible to follow the directions of a book, and lose 4 to 9 lbs every week, I would think there would be no overweight people in this country at all. And finally there were 'get real' books that approached weight loss from a 'let's change your mind and your lifestyle'. These had brutally honest titles full of promise, such as "This Is Why You're Fat (and How to Get Thin Forever): Eat More, Cheat More, Lose More-and Keep the Weight Off"

Where the heck did one even start? Half of these books had conflicting views from the one next to them. This one said less carbs, more protein. This one said less fat, more carbs. Some titles suggested eating a specific food group, or even a specific food. I saw titles like "The Grapefruit Diet" or the "Spicy Food Detox".

It all left me with an overwhelming feeling of _'What the hell?'_

"What are you doing?"

I practically jumped out of my skin as Rose's voice interrupted my perusal of a book entitled "Crazy Sexy Diet: Eat Your Veggies, Ignite Your Spark, and Live Like You Mean It!" Because hey, they say sex sells. A sexy diet sounded good to me.

Snapping the book shut, I tried to play it cool. "Did you get your book? Are you ready to go?"

Rose approached me like a lioness crawling up on her prey. "Nice attempt to change the subject. What are you doing?"

Caught red handed, I replaced the book on the shelf, trying not to look at her. "It's not a big deal, okay, Rose? I was just…thinking. I guess all the stuff with my dad is making me take my own health into consideration. So I was just looking for some information."

Suddenly I was being tackled by a mop of blonde hair. Rose practically squealed as she hugged me so hard I thought my bones were going to crack. When she pulled away, I could have almost sworn that she looked a little misty eyed.

"I'm really proud of you, Bella. I think that's a really good path to be looking into going down."

After attacking me with another round of hugs, Rose agreed to let me drop the subject. She had a spring in her step the rest of the night though, and it made me nervous. I was accountable now that I'd said something to her. She was going to expect things of me now, and if I didn't deliver…there would be disappointment.

_How do I get myself into these situations? Oh right…because I'm an i__diot._

Later that night, I lay in my bed, yet again unable to move past the outer edges of sleep. Perhaps a midnight snack was in order. Rose's door was shut, but I wasn't sure if she was asleep. I tiptoed quietly as possible, out into the kitchen.

_Hmm…what's a healthy late night/early morning snack?_

The bag of apples sitting on the kitchen counter seemed like a good idea. I pulled one out, and rinsed it out in the sink. This, however, turned out to be a bad move, because the sink was right next to the counter space where Esme's baked goodie basket sat. The edge of the cloth covering was turned back, and I could see a homemade double chocolate brownie peeking out at me.

"Eat the apple, Bella." the Angel-me on my shoulder said sweetly.

"Oh come on, Bella." the Devil-me on my other shoulder whispered in my ear. "It'll be one last sweet treat. You've already eaten badly today, there's no point in cutting yourself off cold turkey tonight. You'll start fresh tomorrow."

The little Devil-Bella made a good point. Just one brownie wouldn't hurt.

"Or you could eat two brownies, and do an extra half an hour of walking tomorrow..." the Devil-me goaded in sinister tones.

"Don't do it!" Angel-Bella warned. "One turns into two, two turn into five. You know this. Stop now. Start the path now. The apple will give you strength."

"You'll regret it in the morning..." Devil-Bella whispered. "You'll regret that you didn't have your last fling with the good stuff. That apple offers you no satisfaction."

I glared down at the apple. What the hell was so tempting about an apple anyway? I'd never understood the whole 'Eve and the apple' story. Now weave me a story where Eve gets tempted by a chocolate brownie in the Bakery of Good and Evil, and _that_ I'd believe.

Putting the apple down, I reached into the basket and pulled out a brownie. It smelled like sweetness, and happiness, and comfort. Angel-Bella gave a mournful wail and disappeared, while Devil-Bella gave a triumphant yell and fist-pumped the sky.

It was just one last time; one last tryst with my good friend Mr. Temptation. Tomorrow I would wake up to a new day, and I would say goodbye to the evils of carbs and over processed sugars. I finished the last bite of brownie number one, and pulled out number two from the basket. Yes, tomorrow, I would get a restraining order against temptation and kick it out of my life forever.

What I didn't realize is that temptation is like a crazy lifetime movie stalker. No matter how far or fast you run, it always manages to get a hold of your forwarding address.

**(AN)-And there we have it. See you guys next week. *rains hugs and kisses upon you all***


	6. First Steps

**(AN)- Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable plot and characters are owned by Stephenie Meyer. **

** So...did you guys know that you're awesome? Cause you are. The reviews I've been getting, the reaction to the story, is more than I could hope for. Thank you for embracing it.**

** My story has been rec'd on the Indie Fic Pimp blog. ****Thank you to Agrutle for the beautiful review!** It's a great site that focuses on giving smaller fics a chance to shine and be acknowledged. Go check them out at www (dot) indieficpimp (dot) blogspot (dot) com.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

And so the time has come, it's here

The silence ends, change is near

You wait in the balance libertine

Come into the pantheon.

~Welcome to the Universe, 30 Seconds to Mars

Chapter 6-First Steps

I stared down at my opponent with fiery loathing, the bathroom tiles cold underneath my bare feet. The seemingly innocent shape below me did not appear intimidated by my glares. Still, it made me feel a little better.

The tension rolled off of me in boiling waves. I felt like I was in the middle of a western cowboy show down, except this wasn't nearly as cool. In any case, I wouldn't have been surprised to see a tumbleweed roll past me on a foreboding wind.

_Alright, you fiendish hunk of plastic-y doom, it's you and me. Mano a mano._

The bright red '0' blazed up at me indifferently, as I stepped onto the cool, hard surface. It disappeared with a series of beeps, and a dash began to blink fervently. There was no going back now.

Rose had suggested that maybe I should wait a while to buy a scale. She had this crazy idea that I was going to get too concerned with the numbers on the scale and self destruct instead of moving forward. I have no clue where she gets that idea fr…

_Oh what the hell! 290 pounds? No…there has to be a mistake._

I took a breath, my heart racing a marathon underneath my ribcage, and stepped down, letting the scale reset. When the much less intimidating 0 reappeared, I resumed my position on the glossy machine's surface. Again the numbers 290 slapped me in the face.

_Oh fudgerbucket._

"Bella, are you okay? You're being really quiet in there."

_What girl hangs around outside the bathroom when another girl is getting on the scale? Isn't there a written law against that kind of stuff?_

"Um yeah, I'm fine." The words didn't sound even remotely believable as they hung in the air. I could almost see the neon sign flashing 'Liar Liar Pants on Fire' above my head. Rosalie must have gathered that I was not a happy camper. When I had dried the tears that were gathering in the corners of my eyes and gotten a hold of my emotions, I went out to find that she had evacuated from the hallway.

_I love friends that can read you like a book and don't make you spell things out for them._

"I'm going for a drive," I said softly, as I passed rose lounging nonchalantly on the couch.

Coaxing the truck to life, I made my way out into the rainy day with no clue where I was going. I'd already visited Charlie twice, and I couldn't let him see me like this. When I reached an empty road, I pulled into the shoulder and screamed. Filled with anger, sadness, defeat, and disappointment that I'd done this to myself, I cried, and yelled, and took my fury out on the poor, defenseless steering wheel. Eventually, I ran out of steam, and headed back out onto the road with no particular destination in mind.

Anyone who drives has those times when they end up spacing out, and somehow their body functions without the cooperation of their brain, and they end up somewhere they have no recollection of driving to. I hate those moments. They seriously freak me out. One of these days I'm going to look up and find myself outside some really shady shop late at night, because that's the kind of luck I have. Luckily for me there aren't many shady places in Forks.

When my brain caught up with the rest of me, I realized I was turning into the parking lot of the shopping center. Angel-Bella popped up on my shoulder and began pointing excitedly to the gym, demanding I go and try to do some damage control after eating all those brownies last night. Surprisingly enough, I found myself listening to her. I managed to take about five steps towards the gym before the fear started to set in. Through the windows of the establishment I could see rows upon rows of complicated looking machinery. On the machines were rows of skinny people, boasting exercise shirts that accentuated their slim curves. They barely looked like they were breaking a sweat.

I imagined the thoughts they would have when I walked in. They would feel disgust towards the ugly fat girl, and they would all move a little bit faster as they ran from the image of everything they never wanted to be. Angel-Bella gripped my shoulder and told me to suck it up and put my big girl panties on.

_Come on Bella. You can do this._

My feet led me along the sidewalk that lined the shopping centre. I found myself but a few mere steps from the door to the gym. It was so close…it was too close. What would they think of me?

Angel-Bella tugged on my hair. "You walk around in front of people who judge you all day, every day. These people won't care about you; they're busy with their own workouts and goals."

Hesitant, I took another step, my mantra fading and losing steam.

_290 pounds Bella, you have to change. You have to do this. You can do this, you will do this, you are…_

As if they had a mind of their own, my feet veered to the right.

…_chickening out and going for ice cream instead?_

It certainly appeared that way. I was now standing in front of the door to the ice cream parlor. My hand was reaching out and grabbing the handle.

_Bad hand, you get back here!_

The rest of my body decided to jump ship along with my hand. Treacherous legs lead me to the counter. Mutinous lips worked with a disloyal tongue to form the words "I'd like a large cup of chocolate chip cookie dough, please."

I swear that I was but an innocent bystander, a victim. But once I'd paid for my ice cream, and found myself standing outside the shop again, what choice did I have but to consume my purchase? It would be unethical of me to throw it out. There were starving people in China. I wasn't quite sure how my consuming ice cream would help those people, but I clung to the sentiment my mother had always used on me when she was trying to make me clear my dinner plate.

Devil-Bella joined the party, lavishly licking at her own ice cream. Angel-Bella gave her a scathing glare.

_So much for that whole 'start fresh and beat temptation' idea._

Consuming my frozen treat with expert speed, I returned to the car and prepared to head back to the house, with my tail between my legs. As I turned the key and started the engine, I couldn't help the thought that darted across my brain.

_If I've already spoiled my diet for the day, stopping for some burgers before I go back won't be so bad._

Angel-Bella sighed, and held her head in her hands, while Devil-Bella patted me on the shoulder, and grinned with pride. Maybe cutting myself off cold turkey hadn't been such a good idea after all. Maybe…I needed one of those weight-loss guidebooks from the bookstore.

Or maybe, I had absolutely no clue what I needed.

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"Come on Bella, speed it up. My grandma has arthritis and she moves faster than you."

_When exactly had I signed up for boot camp? Oh right, I hadn't._

Rosalie had decided to initiate me without my consent, into her own personal boot camp from hell. This wouldn't have been happening if I was even the tiniest bit good at lying. When I'd come home yesterday, the shame had been on my face as clearly as if it had been written with permanent marker. One glare from Rose and I'd squealed like that stupid little pig-child from those Geico insurance commercials, confessing to the ice cream, and the two burgers and fries.

For a moment, I had entertained the delusion that maybe Rose would give me an A for effort. I'd attempted to go to the gym. I'd started to walk towards it. Wasn't that something worthy of leniency?

Considering I was currently tripping over the sixth tree root in a 5 minute period, and felt like I was about to pass out from hyperventilation, it appeared that leniency was not a word Miss Hale was familiar with. This morning, she'd woken me up at 6 am, blaring in my ear like a foghorn, and insisting that we were going for a hike. Nature doesn't like me very much, and I have to say that the feeling is mutual. I'd managed to walk into every thorny bush and disgusting spider web in the nearby vicinity, and Rose kept shouting at me to walk faster.

Why did the Cullens have to live on the edge of a series of hiking trails? Just…why?

_I only have two settings; sitting, and a snail's-pace walk._

"Rose...do you...have…any clue…where we're going…or…how to get…back?" I wheezed as I followed her retreating crop of blonde hair.

"Of course I know where we're going," she snapped. "Do you think I'd lead you out into the woods to get lost?"

"At this point…I am more than willing…to entertain the idea."

My hyperventilation issues seemed to finally be noticed by Miss Drill-Sergeant-from-hell-Hale. We stopped for a break, guzzling down water and munching on some sort of granola bar thing that tasted like Styrofoam. I managed to whine enough to convince Rose that it was time to head back to the house. It took only a few minutes of hesitant movement for me to realize that we were lost.

"I thought you said you knew where you were going!"

"I did!" Rose answered, in a voice of high pitched panic. "I memorized landmarks to get us back, but I think I made a mistake, because I should have seen the white rock that looks like it has a pee stain on it…but I don't."

My feet stopped, and I turned to my companion with a look of dismay. "You depended on a pee stained rock to get us back to the house?"

"I didn't say it was actually pee stained…it just looked like that."

"Rosalie…I think you're missing the point."

"Do you ladies need some help?"

We both jumped and unleashed horror movie cliché screams, as a voice came from behind us. After the fear came relief, as my eyes drank in the sight of a big, beefy guy with a hiking pack on his back looking us over with a look of amusement. With dark brown, curly hair, dimples deep enough to stick your finger into, and muscular sports appropriate physique, he was exactly the type of guy one wanted to come and rescue them from being lost in the woods.

"We're a little lost," Rose explained. My ears, having been privy to Rosalie's voice for many years now, detected the slightly higher pitch and coy breathiness that signified she was flirting. I looked to the burley mountain man again. Yeah…she would go for a guy like him; broad shoulders and an even broader ego most likely.

Mountain man chuckled. "Yeah, I'd gathered that. Which way are you heading?"

"Do you know where the Cullen property is?"

"Well I would hope I'd remember my way back to the house I grew up in."

"Oh!," Rosalie exclaimed. "You're one of Esme's sons."

"Emmett Cullen, at your service," he answered, stretching out his hand for a shake. It did not escape my notice that he barely looked at me, while giving Rosalie a double…wait…no…triple take. "And you must be the girls who are staying in the guest house. I was wondering when I'd run into you."

With a kind smile, Emmett offered to escort us back to the house, seeing as he was headed back that way himself. Apparently his favorite trails were easier to get to from his parent's property, so he drove up often for his excursions. Rosalie seemed tickled pink at the idea she may be seeing more of him. I scowled at and kicked at the dirt in between steps. Yesterday she'd cried as she deleted Royce's number from her phone. Eventually she'd had to block his number, because he wouldn't stop calling. Weeping into my shoulder she'd exclaimed about how hard it was to stop loving someone even though they've treated you badly. Now look at her, all starry eyed and practically drooling. Moments like these made me glad I didn't have any romantic attachments in my life.

Emmett led us back to the guest house, where he lingered for almost an hour, flirting with Rosalie on the steps. I sat my ass on the couch and turned the volume up so I didn't have to hear the gooey sap. Infatuated, didn't even begin to describe the look on Rose's face when she finally came in. Emmett was the topic of discussion for the rest of the day. I only escaped it for a brief two hours while I visited Charlie. Did I know Emmett was the oldest? Did I know he played practically every sport known to man? Did I know he actually owned a gym? I didn't remember signing up for Emmett-101, but I took it like a champ, nodding my head and saying "uh huh" at all the right moments.

When Rosalie finally headed to bed, I savored the silence, as I attempted to remedy the pulsating pain in my legs with an ice pack. Yet despite the internal moaning of my muscles, there was what I could only identify as a sense of accomplishment. I'd whined like a brat…but I'd done the walk. I'd pushed myself and thought it was a small one; I felt that it was a step in the right direction.

I probably negated that 'step in the right direction' thing with the three cookies from Esme's goody basket I snuck before bed though.

What can I say? Habits are hard to break.

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I awoke to interesting smells coming from the kitchen. Intrigued, I padded out to investigate. Rose was cooking in the kitchen. She didn't cook often, but she was actually pretty good, and my mouth watered at the thought of her ridiculously delicious chocolate chip pancakes. Unfortunately, it was not flaky, buttery, chocolaty pancakes on the plate which Rose handed me with a smile. Instead, unappealing omelet with what appeared to be tomatoes, mushrooms, and spinach in it mocked my hungry stomach.

"Eat up," Rosalie ordered, in a cheerful tone that I had never ever heard emitted from her before 10 am. She wasn't a morning person. Getting up and bouncing about the kitchen while making breakfast was not her style. No, Rose was that person you had to shove out of bed at 9.30, and god help you if you didn't have a cup of coffee to put in her hand when you did it. This was Twilight Zone bizarre.

As uninterested as I was in the heap of egg and vegetables before me, I brought it to the dining room and did as I was told. I didn't want to irritate the alien who had obviously abducted Rose last night and had taken her place.

"Make sure you put on comfortable workout clothes when you're done there," Rose advised, as she began washing the pan and cooking utensils.

I nearly chocked on a forkful of omelet. "Um…why?"

"We're going to the gym."

_Seriously? Hadn't the hike yesterday been enough for like…the week?_

Looking up, I saw Rosalie staring at me with a firm scowl stretching across her face. "Listen you, I know you. So I know that you've got this whole 'lose weight and eat healthy' thing inside of you. All you need is a little kick to get you going. Being the amazing friend that I am, I will be giving you that kick."

Immediately my brain began a panicked search for a way out. "But..but Rose, you have to sign up for memberships and we're only going to be here for a few months."

"No worries," she answered confidently, "Emmet owns this gym. He's giving us a short-term membership which we can dissolve at any time. And it's only $20 a month for the both of us."

So that was her ulterior motive. She wanted to go flirt and be all fit and sexy in front of mountain man. I should have known.

Again I did what I was told. So now here I was once again, this time in a pair of baggy sweats and a plain t-shirt, standing outside of the doors to the gym. Only this time, there was no time to hesitate, because Rose was pushing me in and practically shouting in the face of the receptionist, "Hi!"

_God help me, she is way too chipper. Kids given free reign in a candy store wouldn't be as happy._

The receptionist lifted her head of short, spiky, black hair. Her eyes were heavily lined and sporting a ton of mascara, as she acknowledged us with boredom. "Membership cards, please," she said in lilting soprano tones.

"We actually don't have those yet," Rose explained. "My name is Rosalie Hale, and this is Bella Swan. Emmett said he'd have everything set up for us."

"Oh, are you the super special VIPs' he told me to expect?" The girl arched an eyebrow and shot me a not even slightly hidden judgmental look. "Well you aren't what I expected at all."

As she whirled around to gather our paperwork or whatever we needed in order to sign up for this stuff, I took notice of her nametag. It proudly displayed that her name was Alice. I'd known an Alice once. She used to throw mud at me in elementary school.

Rosalie went through the revised paperwork, signing and checking and agreeing to terms of service. Alice handed us our little membership cards, small enough to go on our key chains, and then directed us to an X on the floor where we had to stand and have our picture taken. Apparently they needed a photo ID to check in case someone forgot their card. Awesome. I looked like a frumpy couch potato.

Emmett rounded the corner, and Rose started beaming brighter than the highbeams on a car. He walked us around and gave us a tour of the gym. It was moderately sized, complete with spacious locker rooms, showers, and rooms with tanning beds. Emmett explained that he'd gone into business with his brother, Jasper. Jasper's wife, Alice, managed and also handled advertising around town. It was a small, but well-cogged and lucrative business. There was only one other gym near Forks, and it was apparently really crappy, so business at The Cullen Gym, as it was so eloquently named, was booming.

Finally, Emmett had to stop flirting with Rosalie and go do more productive, work related things. I followed Rose into the locker room where we put away our purses, before heading out into the gym area again.

_These machines look scary as hell. I don't even know where to start._

Luckily I didn't have to decide. Rose headed for the treadmills, most likely because they were the closest, distance wise, from the front desk where Emmet was. I followed behind her with a sigh.

Apparently Rose had the foresight to bring headphones with her, the gym wall before us had a row of TV's playing various popular channels. She hadn't thought to give me the memo, though, and I stared sullenly at the machine before me, and wondered if I could sneak out while she was distracted. Deciding that move would only end up kicking me in the ass later, I sucked it up, and hesitantly stepped onto the machine.

_Oh fudgerbucket, what are all these buttons? Elevation, cardio, weight loss, what is all this?_

My eyes caught onto a green button labeled quick start. That seemed easy enough. I pushed, and the tread beneath my feet began to move slowly.

_Okay. I can do this. Deep breaths, Bella._

I looked over at Rosalie's button control panel thingy, and a little screen stated that she was going 5.0 miles per hour. Her hair bounced up and down as she jogged lightly, her eyes focused on the TV screen before her. I didn't want to look lazy, so I pushed the up button on the speed. There was no way I was jogging, so I stopped at 3.0 miles per hour, which brought me to a brisk walk.

_No one is staring at me; no one is staring at me. Oh my god, everyone is staring at me._

After five minutes my legs began to protest and my breathing became staggered with my efforts. Time seemed to be slipping by so slowly, and I looked around trying to find something to concentrate on.

That's when I saw him.

Two treadmills to my right, wearing a pair of low-slung gray sweats and a black, sleeveless t-shirt, was quite possibly the hottest guy I had ever seen in my entire life. High cheekbones, a strong jaw line, a straight nose, and full lips which were set off by a mop of unruly, yet beautiful, bronze hair. He was lean, but muscular, and his long fingers were curled into fists as he ran.

I started to stumble, and just barely managed to grab a hold of the support bars on the treadmill and regain my step.

_Okay, no more looking around for me. I'm klutzy enough without being distracted by ridiculously hot, sweaty guys._

My side began to cramp, I felt like my chest was caving in on my lungs, and my legs were planning a full scale mutiny against me. Surely I'd been going at this for at least a half an hour. I checked the control panel and was dismayed to find that I'd only been doing this for a total of 10 minutes.

_Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else._

I let my eyelids drift to a close and tried to picture myself walking down the streets of Phoenix towards my favorite Chinese restaurant. Yeah, that would give me motivation.

It happened so fast. I suddenly realized that I was moving backwards, and then my head was hitting something hard. Pain lashed through my head and back, and little pinpricks of light danced in front of my eyes.

Then there was a face, hovering over me.

_Oh no, not Mr. HotTreadmillDude_

The hazy lights that clouded my vision shimmered over his perfect features, almost making it look like his skin was sparkling. His eyes, which I hadn't been able to see from my spot on the treadmill, were a deep, vibrant green. They made my head spin. Or maybe that was a concussion.

"Bella are you okay?" came Rosalie's concerned cry.

The pain and blurred vision began to ebb, and in their place came burning shame and the knowledge that the whole gym was staring at me.

"Ma'am, can you sit up?"

Oh no, cute treadmill guy was talking. His voice sounded like someone bottled heaven and turned it into sound. I rose slowly, holding my head. Treadmill Guy put his hand on my shoulder, and I tried not to freak out.

After a big show of nonsense and putting ice on my head, it was decided that I was fine. I was a klutzy idiot, but I was physically okay. The Treadmill God of Hotness went back to his workout, and Rosalie decided it would be better if we went back to the house before I injured myself any further.

We collected our belongings and she asked me what had happened, and then proceeded to chastise me on the way out. "Why the hell would you close your eyes on a treadmill Bella?"

I shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

_Treadmill: 1, Bella: 0_

"What am I going to do with you, Bella?"

"Oh, you're just butthurt because I cut into your Emmett-ogling time."

I received a light punch on the arm. "I wasn't the only one ogling," Rose countered.

When it came to the gym…I was not a fan. Yet I didn't feel as discouraged as I thought I would. Part of me wanted to go back, and conquer that stupid treadmill. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this.

The thought of running into those gorgeous green eyes again didn't hurt either, of course.

**(AN)-So we've gotten our first sneak peek at Edward in this chapter. I know I've taken awhile to get to him, and I appreciate you guys being patient. But fear not, you shall see lots of him soon!**


	7. Invitations

**Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or plot...I do however own a ton of psychology books and college homework. Think Stephenie Meyer will trade with me?**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

I heard a song inside of me  
It resonated off the sea  
And all the chorus voices sang it back to me  
If life is an ocean  
Then I'm only on the surface

~On the Surface, Civil Twilight

Chapter 7- Invitations

"A wheelchair? I don't need a confounded wheelchair! God gave me two feet and I intend to use them."

Dr. Cullen shot me a pleading look, clearly unsure of how to convince Charlie the wheelchair was necessary. I shifted closer to Charlie, who was sitting up in his bed with his feet swung over the side, looking annoyed and exhausted all at once. Squeezing his shoulder gently, I used the most innocent, _'Daddy's little girl'_ voice I could muster.

"Please, Dad? It'll just be to the car."

Charlie's gruff face twisted in an attempt to resist, but then he sighed and his shoulders slumped in resignation. "Oh, all right then."

Two days ago, the doctors put Charlie's stints in. Now he was being cleared to go home, though he would be housebound for quite some time. No driving, no heavy lifting, and no work for him until the Doctor cleared it. This made for a ridiculously grumpy Charlie. He snapped and harrumphed cantankerously throughout our journey to the hospital lobby, although I could have sworn I saw him blush a little when a cute nurse named Sue said goodbye to him.

_Must have been a trick of the mind. Charlie doesn't blush._

Reluctantly, he allowed me and Rose to help him into the car.

I hate driving with parents in the car…mine or anyone else's.

No matter how old you are, and no matter how long you've been driving, they act as if you're about to recklessly drive off a cliff any moment. Charlie kept glancing at my speedometer nervously, and I fought the need to remind him that I had never been in an accident and was thus quite obviously a very capable driver. Instead I kept my mouth shut as my father pointed out all the red lights and stop signs, and turns and other vehicles that I apparently was incapable of noticing without his assistance.

I tried to lead Charlie to the couch, but his slow, but desperate hobble took him right to the fridge. Upon opening the door, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and glared at me. "Where's my beer? What is all this stuff?"

"You're on a diet, Charlie. Remember? No more beer, and no more microwave dinners with enough salt in them to choke a horse."

My father made a strangled noise, probably akin to the sound a child would make if you told them they were being cut off from sugary sweets. I swear he even stomped his foot, a feeble movement mind you, but enough that I realized he'd done it.

"Since when can't a grown man have a beer in his own damn house?"

My returning glare was hard and merciless. "When he's had a heart attack and forced his daughter to fly miles to see him while having a panic attack."

_When in doubt play the guilt card. It's not always the most morally correct option…but it gets the job done._

With the sourest expression I had ever seen upon his face, Charlie aggressively consumed the salad I prepared for him. He practically spit nails at me when I offered him some sugar free Jello for dessert.

Change is hard, especially when it feels like it's been forced upon you. No grown up wants to accept the help of their child. It makes them feel like they've lost face. So I didn't push when he insisted he wanted to go upstairs by himself. I stood at the bottom, clenched my fists, and held my breath when he stumbled. When he got to the top he shot a triumphant smile over his shoulder.

I would have stayed longer, made sure he had everything he needed, but I think he would have killed me. I settled instead for making him swear about a thousand times that he would call me if he needed anything. Rose had to practically drag me out of the house and into the car.

As we made our way back to the house, this strange feeling began to unfold inside of me. First I felt the tingling of a desire, but it wasn't clear what for. Like the petals of a blooming flower, my mind opened up slowly, taking it's time showing me what it wanted. It wasn't until we pulled into the driveway, that I realized what it was.

"I want to go to the gym."

_Wait. What?_

The statement flew from my lips, and it sounded so strange coming out of me. Rose looked at me in surprise, and then broke out in a proud grin. She punched me on the shoulder lightly. "That's my girl! Only let's try not to injure ourselves on the machinery this time, okay?"

After changing into more comfortable, workout friendly clothes, we were on our way. Rosalie had an extra pair of headphones which she leant me, along with her _iPod_. I felt bad taking it, but she said she preferred to watch the television because it gave her a visual to look at. I didn't usually like Rose's taste in music, but I thought that the quick beats and energetic melodies of her songs would get me in a good 'workout zone.' Although all I really cared about was not falling on my ass again.

That sentiment was doubled when we walked into the gym, and the first thing I saw was Treadmill Guy. He was donning the red shirt and black pants that I recognized as the employee outfit. All desires to work out were replaced with a desire to flee the premises immediately, most likely with screaming involved. I froze in terror. Rosalie had to reach out and grab my wrist, lifting it up so that Alice could see the number on the membership card which I held in my fear-ridden fingers.

Alice gave me a look that said she thought I was two cans short of a six pack. At this moment, I was inclined to agree with her.

Hot Treadmill Guy hadn't noticed us. He was looking over papers and making notes while munching on a container of pasta. But then he looked up, gazing right at me, and smiled.

"Hey, you're the girl that took a not so graceful swan dive off the treadmill yesterday. How's your head?"

The tiny bit of logic that existed in my brain told me that the socially acceptable thing to do here was laugh at myself. I should have blushed and made some sort of witty comment like "My head is fine, ego is slightly bruised, but hey maybe I knocked some coordination into my brain."

But no… I was not capable of that sort of response. What came out of me was "Uhhhhhhhhhh?" That's right. I even framed my ineptitude in the form of a question.

Suddenly I was jerked away by Rosalie's merciful hands. If only she could reach directly into my brain and rewire things so that it bypassed the 'Let's make Bella look stupid' pathway.

The locker room was empty as Rose dragged me in behind her. She turned around and gazed at me with incredulity. "What the hell, Bella? You do realize that there is not an actual rule that states girls have to lose their shit around the male race, right?"

I laughed. "Isn't that slightly hypocritical, Rose? Weren't you the one that dragged us here yesterday so you could moon over Emmett? Wouldn't you categorize the breathy giggles and the flirtatious hair twirling as 'losing your shit'?"

I was answered with a dignified sniff. "No, no I would not. I can function around Emmett. You however, turn into a blubbering hormonal mess; big difference."

This was true. Honestly I had no clue how I was going to complete a workout if he was around. I sighed and leaned my head against the cool metal of the lockers. "He can't be here," I muttered, "why does he have to be here? Why does God hate me?"

Rose shrugged. "Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor by giving you some eye candy."

Running out of the gym now would make me look like a bigger ass than I did already. So I sucked it up, prayed to every deity known to man, and followed Rosalie out of the locker room.

The row of treadmills seemed to cackle at me forebodingly.

_Let's stay away from the treadmills for a while._

I motioned to Rose and she followed me over to the elliptical machines, which looked much safer. Hefting myself upwards, I placed my feet firmly on the pedals. Gently placing the _iPod_ into one of the side cups on the control panel, I attached the ear buds and clicked on a song. I had no clue what it was, but it was upbeat and full of electric guitars, so I figured it would suit my needs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I assessed the desk area by the front door, looking for Treadmill Guy. When I didn't see him, my heart kind of fell a little bit.

_Wait, Bella, do you want him to be here or not?_

_Good question brain…I have no freaking clue._

I shook the thoughts away, intent upon doing this whole 'workout' thing right; or at least as right as I was capable of doing it.

At five minutes I was feeling great, going 3.0 miles per hour on the elliptical. I was slightly aggravated that the machine beeped at me every other minute to put my hands on the handles so it could check my heart rate. Still, I carried on.

The ten minute mark found my pace slowed to 2.8 mph and my breathing labored. I was gripping the handles of the machine like they were my life savers, and I was beginning to get a stitch in my side.

By fifteen minutes my chest felt like it was going to explode and my legs felt like they were on fire. I had slowed down to a measly 2.3 mph, and I was wheezing so loudly that the guy two ellipticals over from me kept staring at me in concern.

But I was not stopping. No, for once in my life I was going to see a task through. I was not going to give up and give in the minute things got difficult.

That's when I saw him…Treadmill Guy. He had traded his red shirt with the gym logo on it for a plain black t-shirt. Standing next to him, was a busty brunette working her arms with a set of dumbbells. Treadmill Guy appeared to be instructing her, focused on her stance and movements. Busty Brunette, couldn't have given a shit about her workout though, she was focused on his abs and crotch.

Hatred curdled in my toes, shot up through my stomach, and punched my heart on the way out of my throat in the form of a muffled growl. I didn't know that girl. I had no reason to want to grab those dumbbells and beat her perfectly curvaceous form into a bloody pulp with them. Yet that is exactly what I pictured myself doing.

I have no clue if I continued to move on the elliptical machine or not. My eyes were glued to Busty as she set the dumbbells down and began an exaggerated attempt at stretching, thrusting her chest outward in the direction of her prey.

_Bella angry. Bella smash nasty Big Boobs._

Rosalie seemed to sense the hostility that was rolling off me in waves. She suggested that maybe we'd worked out enough for one day. I guessed she didn't want to have to explain to Emmett why her friend turned his gym into a homicide crime scene. Which was understandable… _I guess_.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, still glaring in the direction of Treadmill Guy as I went to get a paper towel dampened with cleaner to wipe down the machine. I petulantly stomped my way into the locker room, where I threw my belongings into my bag aggressively.

Rosalie sat down on the bench and looked at me like I was an alien life form.

"What…" she began.

"I don't know," I cut her off. "I just…I… ugh, I'm losing my freaking mind is what."

We gathered our things and headed out. Emmett was at the front desk with Alice, and I lingered by the front door while he exchanged words with Rosalie. The goo-goo eyes they were making at each other made me want to punch kittens; which was bad… because I loved kittens.

Rosalie was far too quiet on the drive home. She kept glancing over at me and giving me this little 'I know something you don't' smile.

_Nice try…but I'm not biting._

I made a point of walking right into the house and to my room. Whatever Rose was up to, I wanted nothing to do with it.

Then again, realistically, when did I ever get what I wanted?

About two minutes passed before she was lingering in my doorway, fingering a little business card like it was a ruby or something.

"Don't you want to know what I've got here?" she fished.

"Not particularly," I grumbled, staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

"Oh…so you don't want to know his name?"

"Whose name?"

"Hot Treadmill Guy's."

Against my will, my eyes shot to Rosalie. Just like that she knew she had me; hook, line, and sinker. "Well… go on," I encouraged.

She smiled. "Edward Masen. He helps people learn how to use the machines at the gym, and on the side he works as a personal trainer." The card was expertly flung onto the edge of the bed, and I scurried over the sheets to get to it. Like the psycho that I apparently was, I traced my fingers over the neatly printed name.

Too bad he'd only ever be a name on a card to me.

"So…?"

Rose was looking at me expectantly. "So…what?" I answered.

"You should hire him."

The blood drained from my face, and I gaped at her like a fish out of water. "You're joking, right?"

"Fuck no. He can give you guidance, and motivation. Plus it's obvious you want to do nasty and possibly illegal things to him. Why waste an opportunity?"

"Maybe because there is no opportunity to waste? Like I'd delude myself for even a second into thinking I'd have a chance with a guy like that. Get real, Rose."

"I think that's a bullshit excuse, Bella. At the very least he can help you reach your goals faster."

I rolled my eyes. "I can use the machines perfectly fine on my own, thanks."

"I'm just saying you should think about it."

"Rosalie, if I can't even say hi to him, how the heck am I going to do a workout with him? I'm already out of my comfort zone as it is; I don't need the added pressure of a god-like male watching my blubber jiggle while I'm trying not to break my neck."

"He's a trainer, Bella; it's his job to help people get healthy. I'm sure he'd be able to be professional and objective and I don't think it's fair for you to assume you know what other people think about you. Maybe he's attracted to plus sized girls!"

"There's plus sized and then there's _plus sized_," I mumbled.

Rose let out an exasperated shriek. "Fine…you do what you want. All I'm saying is you moan and bitch about how detached you feel from the rest of the world, but you're the one shutting the doors and windows here. If you're waiting for someone to send you an invitation to your own life, you're going to be waiting for quite a while."

I hated it when she went all introspective on me. She left me to my own devices for the rest of the day, and I proceeded to sulk, attempting to convince myself that she was absurd and I was right. Yet discord swirled around in my stomach, gnawing at me with doubt. Eventually I couldn't stand the feeling that there was tension between us any longer.

"Rose?"

She was curled up on the couch with her book. The anger had still not quite ebbed away from her face. When she lifted her gaze to meet my own, I was shocked to see that there were tears swimming in her eyes.

Suddenly being right or wrong didn't matter anymore. Rose was my best friend, and nothing was worth making her upset. "I'm sorry," I murmured in regretful tones.

"I worry about you, Bella."

Horror struck me when I heard the unshed tears thickening her voice. "You're so unhappy all the time, and it hurts me Bella, to see you so miserable. I worry that you're going to get sick or something; that you're going to kill yourself with food. That scares the shit out of me…because you're the only one in my life who I can trust; the only one who gives a shit about me. I don't know what I'd do without you, and I want you to take this 'getting healthy' thing seriously. Do you understand? I love the fucking shit out of you, and I need you to be safe in body and mind, because I need you to be around until we're old and grey and half senile. Okay?"

Images of myself lying on a hospital bed, Rose's tear stained face hovering near my own, filled my head. In a moment of clarity that was rare for me, I realized that my unhealthy habits weren't just hurting me. I gingerly sat down next to Rose on the couch, staring at my lap as I tried to collect my thoughts. Finally, I took a deep breath, and looked her in the eyes.

"I understand. I promise that I'm going to try. I'm here, and I'm taking this seriously, and I'm not going to leave you. We will be senile old ladies together, hobbling around our retirement home and driving the staff crazy by tripping people with our canes and stuff. Got it?"

She gave me a watery smile as she leaned in to hug me. "Okay."

The sound of Rosalie's phone ringing ended our heartfelt embrace. She bounced up from the couch, more chipper than a chipmunk on the first day of spring. When she viewed the front of her phone, she released a squeal of glee that nearly shattered my eardrums, and raced off to her bedroom.

I heard a cacophony of giggling and flirtatious exchanges. It was obvious who she was talking to. To be honest, I was rather nervous that Rose had given Emmett her cell phone number when she barely knew him. Though I was sure he was a nice, non-stalker, it was the principle of the matter that bothered me. I guess Rose's parents had never sent her to stranger danger classes when she was younger.

When the sound of manifesting female hormones ceased, Rosalie reemerged, an ecstatic grin upon her face. "Want to go to a get together at Emmett's tomorrow night?"

"Um…?"

"It's not a huge thing. Just Emmett and his brother and sister…and Edward…ya know."

If I were a dog my ears would have been perked and my tail wagging frantically. "Treadmill G…I mean… Edward will be there?"

She smiled enticingly. "Uh-huh."

Oh, now I was confused. My brain was saying '_no, thank you'_ to the idea of being in a house with a bunch of strangers. However, my heart and eyeballs were saying that they were really cool with the idea of getting to view the prettiness that was Edward. It was two against one though, so the eyeballs and pumping traitor in my chest began to win me over.

"Okay," I said, uncertainty making my voice strained.

"Are you sure, Bella? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

I sighed. "It's like you said…I need to stop waiting for invitations from the world, right?"

"Exactly!" Rose replied happily.

That night as I bridged the space between wakefulness and sleep, I told myself that tomorrow night would be an opportunity for me to work on being a new Bella; more confident, outgoing, and vivacious. I would try to be someone who was living life instead of hiding from it.

That is if current me didn't have a panic attack of death first.

Optimism is not my strong suit.

**(AN)-I was going to post tomorrow...but Agrutle and Erica voted for tonight...and how could I say no? Also...you can find links to beautious banners for the story on my profile page, along with links to my twitter and fb. I feel kind of creepy posting that stuff. It's like I'm staring at you guys with a stalker smile and my head slightly cocked, going "Let's be _friends_". In any case I figured I'd put it out there. See you guys next week!**


	8. Dancing With Shadows

**(AN)-(Runs in with a pocket watch, dressed up as the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland) I'm late...I'm late...for a very important date! My bad guys. I wanted to post Wed, but the combination of a slowly forming chapter, and a ton of pre-spring break homework kept me away. But the good news is I have all next week to write like a woman possessed.**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

I tremble they're gonna eat me alive  
If I stumble they're gonna eat me alive  
Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?  
Beating like a hammer

~Help I'm Alive, Metric

Chapter 8- Dancing With Shadows

"Good Morning!"

The sudden explosion of Rosalie's voice from behind me caused my hands to lose their grasp on the container of eggs I'd been removing from the fridge. Styrofoam and hard shell crunched as they met with harsh linoleum tile. Bending down to inspect the damage, I groaned at the sight of cracked shells and seeping innards.

_Again with the 'way too chipper for 7am' attitude. I dislike this new Rose. I want Rosalie McGrumpypants returned to me immediately._

"Oh shit, sorry, Bella. I thought you heard me coming." She frowned as I sent the eggs off to their trash-bag grave. "What were you going to make?"

"Pancakes."

Rose gave a scandalized gasp. "Pancakes? I don't think so, Missy. Pancakes are not conducive to weight loss. You sit your ass down and I'll show you what a proper breakfast looks like."

I did not like the sound of that.

My fears were confirmed when the bouncy blonde practically skipped over to the table and delivered me a cup of some sort of red liquid, and a bowl of some nasty looking health cereal. She informed me that my cup contained vegetable juice, and the cereal had lots of fiber.

The gaze I gave her was sulkiness incarnate. "Don't pancakes have fiber?"

She shook her head at me. "Sorry, Sweets, you are cut off from overly processed carbs and junk."

A complaint began to rise in my throat, but I swallowed it when I remembered the promise that I'd made to her last night. I had to take this seriously. My faults were many, but I'd be damned if I ever allowed myself to be a liar.

So I gagged the thick, hearty vegetable juice down and tried not to think about how much a fluffy, buttered pancake would be superior to it.

As my consciousness slowly awoke and caught up with the rest of me, I remembered that we were going to Emmett's tonight. Rose was chattering away excitedly; clearly looking forward to our evening plans. I did not share in her enthusiasm. I spent my day moping about the house, trying to avoid thinking about the impending rocket of doom that was speeding towards me.

Eventually my evasive attempts were picked up upon by Rosalie. I was actually attempting to talk myself into the proper state of sloth, to suggest that I wasn't feeling well. My specialty was the spaced out, sick stupor stare, as I affectionately titled it. But I hadn't quite gotten the 'my body feels like it's made of lead' look perfected when Rose barged into my room and shot me her 'I know what you're up to' look.

"What are you wearing tonight?"

This was Rose speak for 'Bitch, if you think you're getting out of this then you're out of your mind.' Which basically meant it was time to wave the white flag of surrender.

"Um…well I was going to go with clothes, but you know, maybe I should bring back the whole Adam and Eve fig-leaf look. You know how I like to be original."

"Can it, Smart Ass," she retorted playfully as she began searching through my clothes. She rifled through my drawers for a few minutes, and then made a squeal like she'd found gold. This struck me as odd, seeing as it was my clothes she was going through.

"Why haven't you worn this? The tag is still on!"

I looked up to find Rose inspecting a dressy black shirt. It had ruching along the sides, with light, fluttery sleeves that gave it a whimsical style, while the low neck line and sunburst of patterned blue, white, and gray rising from the left side and towards the center gave it a little edge. It wasn't the kind of thing I would wear. It took me a moment to even remember how I'd gotten it.

"It was a gift from Renee," I recalled out loud. "I don't know why I packed it. I must have accidentally thrown it in with something else."

"Well you're wearing it tonight."

I literally retched at the thought. "No, no way, never going to happen."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow at me. "You can not have a nice shirt like this and then never wear it. That's as sad as buying a ton of books from the store and leaving them on your shelf without reading them. It's bad consumerism, and it is unfair to this gorgeous piece of clothing. Wear it with your black jeans. Oh…and I have a pair of low heels you can borrow. Thank God we're the same shoe size."

I glared at the back of her head as she resumed her inspection of the shirt. "Are you attempting to make me an unwilling assassin? You know giving a klutz like me heels is like giving a serial killer a chainsaw, right?"

"Stop being so melodramatic and trust me! This is going to be fun."

She did not acknowledge the pillow that I threw at her head as she left the room. It still made me feel better though.

~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~~0.0~

When I was younger I had an intensely irrational fear of my shadow. In my tiny mind it was a dark and fraudulent predator, stalking me with sinister intent. Every time I saw it I would burst into hysterics. This went on until the age of five, despite explanation after explanation that I had no reason to be afraid. Finally, Renee tried a different tactic. She told me "Dance with your shadow, Sweetie, and then it won't seem so scary anymore." I found her words to be true. Fear was lost upon the blackness when it was imitating my graceless tippy toe spins. It's one of the only times in my life I can remember my mother giving me comfort.

With age I came to realize that it was her way of telling me to face my fears; to take the power back from the dark spots in my life. This trembling, and the fear rushing through my veins, was from the shadows of insecurity and doubt that haunted the corners of my mind. I needed to dance with them, face my fear and render the shadows harmless.

Of course things like this are easier said than done. As the car pulled up to it's destination, I tried not to let Rosalie see the fear that was poking its why through my thinly placed mask of composure.

_**Thump thump. Thump thump.**_

My heartbeats had turned into screams.

New environments can be intimidating enough for someone who has some semblance of self esteem. For me, it felt like every apprehensive step was leading me to certain doom. My game plan was as follows: get into the house without falling, find the corner farthest from where the rest of the people were, and stay there until it was time to go home.

The blood was rushing through me at warp speed, racing, fleeing, and panicking. Deep within my brain primal structures were screaming, 'Danger, run for it while you still can!'

I managed to follow Rosalie up the steps to the front door. She flashed me an excited grin before ringing the doorbell. "Just breathe, Bella."

That was easy for her to say. Her blonde hair curled along her collarbone enticingly, and her outfit accentuated the feminine curves underneath them. My clothes only heightened the message that I'd had one too many supersized meals in my life.

Rose was so excited, and I didn't want to screw up and embarrass her. I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with air, hoping maybe the particles of oxygen would contain the codes necessary to rewire my brain, and allow me to be something other than socially awkward.

_Think calm thoughts, Bella. She said it would only be a couple of people._

I still had my eyes closed when the door swung open. The blast of noise that greeted me seemed a little excessive for a small gathering. When I allowed the lids of my eyes to flutter open, dread sprouted from my toes, grew up through my torso, and strangled my heart.

From my viewpoint on the front stoop, I could see that the interior of Emmett's house was currently playing host to at least 20 people. There wasn't time to panic, no time to run before I was spotted by an excessive amount of people. Rosalie grabbed my hand, and the terror allowed my body to become malleable to her demands, my feet ghosting behind her on autopilot.

When I felt my connection to the draft of cold night air get cut off, I knew there was no way I could make an exit without looking like I was socially inept. My eyes sought a corner, any corner, where I could try and blend into the wallpaper and pray that no one tried to talk to me. Dismay tingled in my brain when I saw that every nook and cranny was occupied.

_This was going to be a nightmare. _

In light of my social ineptitude, I did what I always did when I was feeling insecure. I attached myself to Rosalie like her own personal leech. Since Rosalie was hell bent on attaching herself to Emmett, it meant we followed him around the house as he played host to people. The two new girls staying in a small town were big news, so part of Emmett's duty became introducing us to the rest of his guests. This became counter productive to my 'be noticed by as few as possible' plan.

Some of those we were introduced to seemed really nice. Angela Webber gave me a warm smile that had more honesty behind it than most people had in their whole bodies. Emmett's friend Jasper had a soothing presence and a velvety southern accent. When I learned he was Alice's husband I did a double take. He didn't seem like the type to marry the kind of girl that files her nails on the job. Mike Newtown was a little cheesy, but harmless…until he started to hit on Rose. Emmett not so subtly led us away after that.

Eventually the discomfort of being put on the spot overshadowed the comfort of being near Rose, and I found a free corner to slink into. That corner happened to be right next to the buffet table. An array of carb-filled, sugar filled, and fat filled snack foods seemed to have been set up just to torture me. It felt like they were literally calling to me.

**Chips:** _Eat us, Bella; you know you love the crunchy, salty texture._

**Popcorn:** _We're white cheddar popcorn…derived from corn…therefore technically a vegetable._

**Cupcakes:** _All this frosting and no one to love. Have a little nibble, Bella, you know you want to._

**Brownies:** _Hey, Treadmill Girl. It's Isabella, right?_

_Wait…that wasn't the brownies._

_Oh fudgerbucket._

Profile of a God? _Check._ Luscious bronze locks just begging to be further messed up by frantically seeking fingers? _Double Check._ A mouth that seemed to have been perfectly designed to make drool come from both sets of a lady's lips? _Ding ding ding, we have a winner!_

_Down Bella, down. Do not maul the nice treadmill man._

I went for a friendly, chill smile that said 'Yep, I'm a perfectly normal human being. Mentally stable and everything, I promise.' The questioning quirk of his mouth and raise of his eyebrows told me the attempt had said something more along the lines of 'I want to stalk you, break into your house, and watch you while you're sleeping as I use Photoshop to make fake wedding pictures of us.'

Me and the whole 'social interaction' thing…we didn't mesh together very well. It's a clinically proven fact. One plus one is two, the sky is blue, and Bella can't talk to people without sounding like a freaking lunatic.

_Oh, that should go on a t-shirt._

_Focus, Bella, focus._

Right. He'd asked me a question. Socially apt people tended to respond to questions.

"No…I mean yes…I'm Isabella, that's my name. Everyone calls me Bella though. Well…I mean, not everyone, but people who know me…call me…that."

_Warning: Idiot Alert, level is critical._

I'm sure my face was hellfire shades of red at this point. Luckily for me, he was still smiling pleasantly.

"Well, Bella, pardon my blunt observation, but you look absolutely miserable standing over here all by yourself." He looked at me expectantly. I didn't know what he wanted.

_Words, Bella! This is the part where you open your mouth and make words come out!_

_Oh, right._

My voice was a soft and shaky excuse for speech. "Yeah, social gatherings aren't exactly my forte." I was sure my interactions thus far had demonstrated that fact rather thoroughly.

Treadmill Guy…Edward…smiled at me warmly, making the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck tingle and rise. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he assured. "No one bites. Well, there was that one time when Emmett bit me during 1st grade recess, but unless you're attempting to steal his favorite red Hot Wheels car I think you should be safe."

A smile bubbled its way through the layer of cautious fear that had frozen over my face.

"I'm Edward," he said, offering me his hand.

Fingers had never looked so sensuous. They were long, and sexy as hell, and I wanted to lick them. I reached out to shake his hand, willing my overzealous hormones to calm down and not cause me to do something really stupid.

"Yeah I kinda knew your name already. My friend grabbed one of your business cards from the gym."

"Oh? Is she looking for a personal trainer?"

I was torn. Guidance from a professional was something I could benefit from, but I was hesitant to share such a personal struggle with a complete stranger. Edward probably thought I was just some lazy couch potato who did nothing but watch TV and eat pizza. This wasn't necessarily an incorrect inference, but still.

For a few seconds I floundered between answers. Be brave and ask for help, or cater to my basic instinct of 'do it yourself and hope no one sees you'? Just as I had pulled together what few scraps of courage I possessed, my response was rendered unnecessary. Edward and I were distracted by the arrival of the Big-Boobed Brunette from the gym.

B to the third power, as I had decided to dub her, softly ran her fingers along Edward's arm before giving it a playful squeeze. "Oh, Edward, you worked me out so good yesterday. I'm sore all over."

_Oh look, a big breasted girl flirting expertly while also invoking poor grammar; how original._

She was looking at Edward's face, but the words were meant for me. While a male ear would probably hear her voice and process it as a seductive purr, the female to female communication allowed me to take it as the aggressive growl it was meant to be. Her eyes perused me with hostility at the same time she inclined her head towards me graciously. "Oh, are you the Bella Swan everyone's been talking about? I was so sad to hear about Chief Swan. I hope he's feeling better. I'm Jessica; it's so nice to meet you."

In girl speak this translated to; "Listen up; you don't look like a threat but let me fill you in. I'm the Queen Bee in this town, so know your place. This man right here, I've claimed him for myself, so you better tread wisely."

I was well versed in translating the covertly hidden insinuations of the pretty and popular. I'd hoped to no longer need such skills once High School was over. Reality had popped that dream bubble real fast.

Watching Jessica press her flawless figure against Edward's caused a lump to form in my throat. They looked perfect together. I couldn't look that good standing next to him if I tried. Swallowing the lump of jealousy, I focused as Jessica began to grill me for my life's story. Edward spoke very little during this exchange. The understated way he watched me, made it feel as if he was peeling back the layers of my brain and digging around through my soul. It was unsettling, yet a tiny bit exciting at the same time.

Eventually the conversation grew slack, and Jessica invited Edward to come do shots with her and a bunch of her friends over at Emmett's impressive bar. He asked me to come along, but inebriation would only further mess up my night, so I opted to stay in my safe little corner. Throughout the rest of the night, I did manage to step out of my comfort zone and mingle a little bit. Mostly only with other corner lurkers who were as soft spoken as me, but hey…one step at a time, right?

The main source of my pride came from my successful handling of the buffet table. I nibbled on the veggie trays (broccoli is one of the few vegetables that I like), and when it was time to get more sustaining nourishment, I weighed my options carefully. One slice of bread, topped with turkey in some sort of gravy seemed better than the chicken wings and pizza alternatives. Thank god for crock pots.

I was seriously excited at my show of willpower. Parties were my downfall when it came to overeating. Nerves and a lack of anything to do with my hands lead to compulsive grabbing and nomming.

The party began to die down around midnight. People said their goodbyes and made their way to their cars, the brightness from the headlights filtering through the windows. I expected that I'd be stuck there until Emmett physically kicked Rosalie out. Surprisingly there were still quite a few people there when she worked her way over to me, face aglow with an apparently successful evening.

The drive home was filled with another dose of Emmett-101. This time, I didn't mind so much. I hadn't exactly been charming this evening, but I hadn't been an absolute social pariah either.

That night as I lay in bed, the shadows on the ceiling beckoned me to dance with them. I feel asleep with images of twirls and dips blanketing my mind.

They hadn't eaten me alive after all.

**(AN)-*Blows noisemaker* Did you enjoy the party? I'm sure you could have used a bit more Edward this chapter, but fear not. Chapter 9 is when you'll get your fix. See you guys next week!**


	9. Only Me

**(AN)-So I don't own Twilight...but for the past two weeks I've owned a menagerie of bs ranging from writer's block, to being sick, to having a shit ton of homework. Thank you for being so patient during my update fail. **

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When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

Far away

This ship is taking me far away

Far away from the memories

Of the people who care if I live or die.

~Starlight, Muse

Chapter 9- Only Me

"This is why I don't like shopping with you, Rose. Why are we looking at soap right now? You have enough back at the house to clean a team of mud wrestlers for a month."

Rosalie turned around and gave me her 'Duh' face. "Yeah, but do I have any that are shaped like cupcakes? Look at this; it's the cutest thing ever!"

She held up the soap in question, which did indeed look like a decadently frosted cupcake. It was making me hungry. Turning away from the tempting visual, I played with a bar of soap that had a gorgeous, tie-dyed coloring to it. I had to admit it. The little privately owned shops in Forks had a sweet, almost nostalgic air to them. We had been roped inside the current store by the amusing name; Wicked Effin Natural Soaps. Once inside, we'd been greeted warmly by the owner. It felt like we were being invited into someone's home, not stepping into a trap where the goal was to get us to spend as much of our money as possible.

Rosalie adored the cupcake soap so much that she bought four, and got into a lengthy conversation with the owner about how the soap was made. I never thought that something as trivial as homemade soap would interest Rose. That just goes to show how she can even surprise people that have known her for years.

As we strolled back towards the car, we passed a small group of teenagers frolicking about loudly. When they were behind us, but still within earshot, one of the boys shouted "Hey fatty, have you called Jenny yet?"

I recognized the tagline from the commercials for the _Jenny Craig Diet_. My pace picked up speed, while Rose stiffened and slowed down. Wanting to prevent any altercation, I grabbed her arm and dragged her forward.

"Those little brats," she snarled. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"They're just kids, Rose. They don't know any better."

"Fuck that! They're young adults and they should know better. Someone should give them a lesson on how to be decent fucking human beings. You can't just let people say shit like that to you, Bella."

I shrugged, and kept my gaze on the sidewalk before me. "I can't stop people from saying stuff. There's this little thing called free speech."

We had reached the car now, and Rosalie placed her bag in the backseat before shutting the door with angry enthusiasm. "You could have at least said something back like…Yeah, I called Jenny, but she put me on hold because she was busy on the other line with your mom."

My attempt to buckle my seatbelt was thwarted as I dissolved into hysterics. "How do you come up with retorts like that so fast? That would have popped into my head like three days later."

Rose grumbled as she started the car. She was really pissed, and scowled all the way home.

Years of name calling had allowed me to perfect the act of pretending that it all rolled off my back. The truth was that I'm always shaken by the cruelty of others, particularly when the hateful words are spewed from the mouth of a stranger. I've often wondered how much unhappiness a person must be carrying in their heart in order to warrant a verbal attack against a random pedestrian. A part of me still held on to the childish belief that people were mean for a reason. I convinced myself that the people who shouted sharp-edged insults at me had some sad back-story, some reason for wanting to darken someone else's day. Rose on the other hand, remained convinced that there was an 'asshole gene' that got passed down the generational line.

I decided to make chicken for lunch. It wasn't particularly appealing to me, but Rose and I had cleansed the house of all unhealthy foods and my taste buds were going to have to change whether they liked it or not. It was manageable with a dollop of low fat sour cream and some salsa for taste, in between bites of broccoli and cauliflower. My taste buds were not as happy as they would have been with a cheeseburger, but my brain was ecstatic. For the first time ever, I measured out serving sizes and consciously took my time with my meal.

For dessert, Rose prepared a concoction she'd found online. I'd always thought Ricotta cheese was gross, but when whipped vigorously and mixed with cocoa powder, low-calorie sweetener, and some sugar free chocolate sauce, it tasted like a decadent treat. We cooked in the kitchen together. Instead of being handed a carelessly wrapped fast food meal in a brown paper bag, I got to enjoy the fruits of my labor, a meal made by hand.

It felt good.

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After my lunch settled in my stomach, I headed for the gym. Rosalie opted out, claiming she had a headache. For a minute I believed her, till I remembered Emmett mentioning that Saturdays were his day off. Now Rose's disinterest in the gym made sense. Naturally she feigned indignant outrage when I voiced my theory, but I wasn't fooled.

The parking lot was packed when I pulled up. Apparently I'd arrived during the optimal workout hour or something. My heart jumped when I saw Edward standing behind the front desk. He looked so strong and confident, so comfortable in his own skin. I wanted that; to have that kind of inner strength inside of me.

I didn't realize that I'd become a 'creeper statue' as Rose called my habit of freezing up and staring at people. With a harrumph and forceful insistence, Alice leaned forward and wrenched my membership card from my hand so that she could scan it. Thankfully, Edward was preoccupied with paperwork and didn't notice my display of social creepiness. I took my card back from Alice, and she made a point of staring past me… at nothing in particular. It always threw me for a loop when complete strangers reacted to me like my presence was the most annoying trial they've ever experienced. Sure I was shy and extremely awkward, but did that make me annoying?

Pushing past the doubt, I focused on the task at hand. The Jenny Craig comment had solidified my decision to ask Edward to train me. I would only be in Forks for a few months, but I was scared that if I didn't seriously attack my weight problems now I'd lose my resolve when I went back to Phoenix. I couldn't do this alone.

Shuffling in the direction of my target, I fought the urge to run away screaming in terror when he looked up at me. A pleasant smile bloomed across his face, and suddenly it felt like my heart was playing a panicked staccato against my tonsils. He leaned towards me and I felt myself mirror that movement, a wilting flower begging for the sun to grace me with its presence. Everything about Edward melted together into an air of familiarity. I didn't know him…but it felt like he knew me, delved deeper into my heart every time he looked at me. His eyes regarded me as if I was a dear friend and he was leaning towards me as if about to entrust me with a precious secret.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

_Oh God, there's an endless lists of things I'd like you to do __to__ me._

I was doing the creepy statue thing again. Someone should find a cure for nerves. In the meantime, I tried to find my words.

"I…um…just wanted to say hi."

_Excellent work Bella. You've served up a helping of lame with a side of stalker; nine out of ten for you on the 'cooking up fail scale'._

My consolation prize was the sound of his deep chuckle. I was willing to settle. Trying to quell the blush that was creeping across my face, I lowered my head and high-tailed it to the locker room.

"Hey, Bella!"

The overly sugary voice made me cringe. I turned to see that B to the third power, known to some as Jessica, was trotting behind me. "Hi," I muttered, as I claimed a locker. Jessica moved next to me, encroaching upon my personal space as if we were best friends or something. "I totally didn't know you worked out here," she said conversationally.

This was bitchese for 'wow I didn't think a lard ass like you knew what a gym was.'

I found it easiest in these types of situations to play along. Smiling meekly I answered, "I haven't been here long. It's something to do while I'm in town, and I could stand to lose a pound or two, you know?"

Another lesson I'd learned. Be the first person to bring up your weight in a joking manner. It takes the wind out of other people's sails.

Jessica deflated like a kid dragged out of a candy store without a purchase. "Right," she replied unhappily as she swept her long hair into a ponytail. I ignored her exaggerated attempts at warm-up stretching, grabbing my bottled water and Rosalie's _iPod_ before locking up the rest of my stuff. Just as I was about to leave, she started talking at me again. Apparently she was determined to successfully serve a blow to my self esteem.

"You know," she began with an absentminded tone, dramatically rooting through her purse and blocking the space between the benches and lockers so that I couldn't get past, "you should see if Edward has any spaces left for personal training. He's very busy, but he's worth it. I work with him three times a week and he's done amazing things to my body." She paused for effect, reaching behind her to play with her perfectly placed ponytail in a way that made my blood boil, and to give the illusion that she hadn't already planned her next words. "Then again, Edward is more experienced with training people of a certain physique. You might want to see if there's a place in Port Angeles that specializes in…people of size."

_People of size?_ What kind of ambiguously insulting title was that? I wanted to rip the pony tail from her head and make her choke on it.

But that would fall under the category of 'things not acceptable in society'. So I stared her right in the face as she straightened and turned to me, a smile of malicious triumph slashed across her face. She must have seen something in my face that satisfied her, because she stepped aside to let me through. I bolted for the exit like a swimmer rising from the depths of a great body of water, in desperate need of a breath of air. I prayed she'd had her fill and wouldn't follow me.

Attempting to shake off the thick blanket of discontent that Big Boobs had so graciously laid upon me, I headed for the treadmills. I'd fallen off the horse…literally fallen, but it was time to get back on and tame the wild beast.

The track gave a little under my feet, as I stepped up onto the machine. This time I carefully scanned the buttons on the dashboard before me. Most of them looked absolutely foreign. But the word 'Elevation' sandwiched between an up and down button, seemed pretty clear. I hit the up arrow and felt the machine angle upwards slightly. This could be really good for me. I could keep a pretty quick pace when traveling across a relatively flat plane, but hills and stairs led to a quick and brutal demise. I knocked the elevation up a little more, until the treadmill's angle mimicked the experience of going up a small hill. It would be nice to be able to tackle an incline at a normal pace without sounding like my lungs were about to collapse.

Nerves caused me to hit the quick start button and keep the speed at a steady 2.5 miles per hour. Slow and easy wins the race and all that junk. My legs were not happy with the elevation. I told them to suck it up.

About fifteen minutes into my workout, I saw Big Boobs with Edward. They were to my right by the metal shelves which held the dumbbells. He stood with his arms crossed and a focused expression which made his face look like beautifully sculpted marble as he appraised Jessica's movements. She kept over-reaching or under-reaching as she brought the dumbbells over her head, so that Edward would lean forward and rest his fingers on the bare skin of her arm as he moved them to the desired position.

It made my blood boil, watching the way she tried to work him. Growling, I reached forward and tapped the speed up to 3.0 miles per hour. My stride got longer; more aggressive. I stayed at that pace, my eyes haphazardly locking onto them every few minutes as they traveled about the gym. With every step something deep in the pit of my stomach began to grow. The words to describe it failed me. It was a mix between anger, focus, and a strange sort of power that burned its way through my veins. I dare to say that I almost felt transcendent. Time started to blur and fade away. There was no Edward or Big Boobs, no Rosalie or Renee or Charlie.

There was only me.

Every step I took was for me. No one else. The feeling of my muscles stretching, my bones shifting and the sweat beading and then rolling across my skin, was all that I knew. For the first time ever…I felt like I was in control of my body, instead of trapped within it.

It was exhilarating, powerful…and freeing.

I had never understood what people meant when they were doing something and said that they were in 'the zone.' Now I knew.

My stomach growled suddenly, pulling me out of my head and throwing me back into reality. I stared at the dashboard in disbelief. That had not felt like an hour at all. I looked up just in time to see Big Boobs give a flirtatious smile to Edward before heading for the locker room. There was not a hair out of place or a drop of sweat marring her perfect figure. I, on the hand, was dripping. In fact I probably looked like I'd had a bucket of water dumped on me. But I didn't care. After grabbing a paper towel and wiping the machine down with the gym's cleaner, I headed over to the counter where Edward was.

I was not a statue. There was no hesitation, no second guessing and no embarrassment. When he met my eyes my words came out with perfectly uttered intent. "I'm interested in hiring you as my personal trainer. What does that entail?"

He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. I did not get sidetracked by the way the fiery strands fell back down to gently caress the skin of his forehead. Well…maybe a little.

"My schedule is pretty busy but let me see what I have," he replied, reaching down to bring a planner up onto the countertop.

"I will take any open slot you have," I announced. "I don't care if it's at five in the morning."

There was a light chuckle at my exaggeration. Although, if he actually told me the only free time he had was at five in the morning, I'd probably take it. "Okay, it looks like I've got a slot open from two in the afternoon till three on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a slot from noon till one on Wednesdays and Fridays. Do any of those days work for you?"

I pondered. "Could I sign up for the Tuesday slot and the Friday slot? Would that be okay?"

Another chuckle. God his eyes were gorgeous. "Yes, that's okay."

There was lots of talking after that; talking about his policy, and fees. I would be paying $40 a week, $20 for each hour long session. The total would be paid to him up front before our Tuesday sessions. After the talking came paperwork. Agreeing to his policies, signing a waiver that basically stated I took responsibility if I got hurt during the work out, answering questions about my health and the healthy of my family members. After the paperwork, there was another round of talking. Edward wanted to know about my goals. I said I wasn't sure yet, but getting away from where I was right now was a definite must. He seemed appeased with that.

"Looks like you're all set," he finally said, getting up to shake my hand. The feel of his fingers against my hand made me want to giggle like a school girl.

"I'll see you on Tuesday," I said shyly. The adrenaline of my workout was wearing off, and I was feeling like my normal, socially inept self again.

"I'm looking forward to it," he answered, with a smile that made me unsure if the wetness between my legs was from the workout or not. After collecting my belongings I stumbled out to the car on unsteady legs. This was partly because the treadmill had mauled my muscles…

…and partly because that smile left me floating on cloud nine, ten, eleven and twelve.

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I decided to make a pit stop to visit Charlie before I headed back to the house. He was looking better every day, and he proudly told me to help myself to the tilapia and steamed vegetables he'd made. I was starved and obliged his request, making myself comfortable at the table. The shifty glances Charlie made towards the couch told me he was used to taking his meals there as opposed to in the kitchen. But I wanted to talk, so I held my ground.

Talking wasn't something that Charlie and I did a lot. Even when I stayed with him during the summer, our exchanges were short and careful. Being so afraid for him…had made me realize that if he hadn't made it I would have regretted not having discussions of substance to look back on.

But it certainly didn't make getting the ball rolling any easier.

"This is really good," I began, trying to keep the awkward discomfort out of my voice.

"Fish came out a little dry," he responded gruffly.

"Dad…can I…can I ask you something?"

"Always Bells."

I picked at a piece of steamed carrot, mulling over the thoughts in my head, trying to figure out how to translate them into a conversation.

"How come you haven't said anything, you know…about my weight? I'm...a lot heavier than the last time I saw you face to face. I figured that with your health conditions…you'd be on me about my obviously bad eating habits."

Once the words were out I wished I could reach out and shove them back in my mouth. I'd much rather we talk about the weather.

Charlie paused, grabbing a napkin and taking his time dabbing at his mouth. I don't think I breathed much as I waited.

_Who needs to breathe?_

_Air is so over-rated._

"Well Bells…frankly I…didn't feel it was my place to say anything. Obviously I haven't been the role model of a healthy lifestyle myself, and you're an adult. As long as you're happy I figure it's my job to keep my mouth shut. Are you…_happy_?"

The way he pauses at the happy part, the worry that creeps into the edges of his voice, is like a sharp knife to my heart. I consider my answer carefully. "I don't know, Dad. I wasn't completely miserable, but I'm certainly not happy with my size. But um…I've been eating better since I've been in Forks and going to the gym. So I think I'm happy…or at least on my way to being happy."

Charlie releases what I think is an approving grunt.

"What about you, Dad. Are you happy?"

In a display of affection uncommon to his character and our father/daughter dynamic, he reached across the table and lightly laid his hand on top of mine. "I'm sitting here eating dinner with my beautiful little girl. That makes me about as happy as a father can be."

_Oh no you don't, eyes! No one gave you permission to go and get all weepy._

"I love you, Dad. You know that right?"

"I sure do Bells. And I love you right back."

Long after our plates were cleaned, we sat at the table and talked; about anything…and everything. How much Charlie loved his job. My uncertainty regarding what I wanted to do with my life…even the weather.

It was the longest conversation we'd had since I hit puberty.

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**(AN)-****Ch 10 has already been started, so I'm 90% certain I'll be able to update normally on Thursday. *Blowing kisses to you all***


	10. Find Your Fight

**(AN)- Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters or plots, Stephenie does. I just shuffle them around and have a little fun.**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

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Every living thing pushed into the ring.

Fight it out to wow the crowd.

Guess you thought you could just watch.

No one's getting out without Stadium Love

~Stadium Love, Metric

Chapter 10- Find Your Fight

At first, the dreaded day approached with lazy abandon, seeming eons away. When I opened my eyes and realized that it _was_ Tuesday, I understood that I had lulled myself into a false sense of security and was now suffering for it. The day had snuck up on me, like a lion leaping from the bushes to pounce upon an unsuspecting gazelle.

Rose was still asleep as I padded into the kitchen in search of breakfast. I felt jittery and nervous about my impending workout with Edward. For me, nerves made me restless and manifested in even more clumsiness than usual. It was a combination that usually meant there would be some bruising in my near future.

I devoured my spinach and mushroom omelet so fast that I barely tasted it. Looking up at the clock, I realized that it was only seven. What was I going to do with myself all day? Heading back to the kitchen to wash my plate, I began humming under my breath in an attempt to distract myself. The humming turned into foot tapping as I scrubbed, which then merged into hip swinging as I rinsed, and finally, turned into an attempt to slide across the kitchen floor a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

This was a mistake. Hardwood floors did not play well with socks, and I didn't have the coordination to mediate between the two. At first I was sliding smoothly across the floor, but then I felt my balance shift, and gravity began to drag me down mercilessly. My hands instinctively sought for something to grab onto. There was a brief moment of success when I felt my fingers curved around something solid, but my success was short-lived when it became apparent that my 'something' was the handle of the fridge which swung open and smacked me right in the face. I went down like a knockout in a boxing ring.

Much like a stunned bird that has flown into a window, I lay immobile on the floor, struggling to blink past the throbbing pain. Even when I heard Rose's bedroom door creak open I still could not move. The sound of her footfalls came closer, and then stopped.

"Did you fall?" Her voice was a shot of amused and a dash of concern.

"Maybe," I groaned back.

"Are you okay?"

I sat up slowly. "Are you referring to before or after the fall?"

With a snicker, Rose grabbed hold of my outstretched hands and helped me to my feet, leading me to the table before grabbing a glass of water and some Tylenol. She knew me too well. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Put me in a padded room where I can't hurt myself? Wait, scratch that. I think my klutziness would still prevail in the end."

My head, which had received a double dose of pain from the fridge/floor combo, throbbed steadily for what felt like hours. By the time I'd rid myself of the last vestiges of dull aching, I was left with just enough time to grab some lunch and get ready.

"You do know that you're going for a workout, not a date…right?"

Rosalie shook her perfectly coiffed blonde hair as she watched me attempt to make my brown, dry, flyaway mess look mildly presentable.

"I know, Rose, but I wanna make a good first impression."

"He's seen you around on numerous occasions. I think first impressions are over and done with." Rose knew however, that her wise logic very rarely infiltrated the paranoid and worrisome confines of my mind. With a reluctant sigh, she stepped forward and gently coaxed my hair into a ponytail. "You don't want strands in your face when you're all sweaty. Relax, Bella. It's not about how you look. Just do what he tells you and take it seriously."

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As I pulled into the parking lot, I began to wonder if my problem was that I was taking it too seriously. This wasn't a test or a job interview. There was no punishment awaiting me if I did badly. The worst case scenario was that I did pathetically bad and Edward hated me, but professional courtesy would hopefully keep him from voicing such opinions. After all, I was paying him for his services.

Unfortunately, no amount of logical banter could quell the butterflies in my stomach. Those butterflies weren't just fluttering about. No, they were rocketing around at hyper speed. It almost felt like they were playing touch football in there.

Prepared to be greeted by Alice's not so friendly face, I was surprised to see Emmett at the desk when I walked in. The smile I received gave me a mental picture of the kind of smile I imagined the Roman Soldiers would give a Gladiator about to enter the arena and attempt to fight a lion. It did nothing to calm my nerves.

"How ya feeling?" he asked, his tone making me think that he could smell my fear better than a bloodhound.

I gulped. Emmett's grin grew wider.

"Don't worry; he won't hurt you too bad; although…a lot of people do blow chunks during their first workout."

_Thank you, Emmett, for that lovely mental picture. I feel so much better._

The walk to the locker room felt long. I peered around the gym, and a sense of foreboding washed over me. I pictured Edward in a dark room, cackling wickedly as he plotted my torture.

I had never come to the gym at this time on a Tuesday. It was bustling, and far more crowded than I was accustomed to. After locking up my belongings, I forced myself to take a deep breath and made my way back out into the gym.

Edward was at the front desk when I emerged. We spotted each other at the same time, and he motioned for me to come over. Emmett began ominously snickering as I approached, until Edward shot him a glare. Turning to me, he pointed in the direction of a metal 'jungle gym' like apparatus. "Five minutes of stretching, and then a five minute warm up on the elliptical or treadmill. Then we'll get down to business."

"O…kay," I whispered, turning obediently.

"Bella?"

His voice pulled me back around, and the quirky crooked smile on his face made the breath catch in my throat. He winked and leaned forward against the counter. "Relax," he advised, humor clinging to the edges of his words.

I managed a forced smile before heading to the area he'd directed me towards. Apparently what I called the jungle gym was technically referred to as the Stretching Cage. It was a half circular shape, made of metal bars which curved upward and over to create a slight ceiling. A large plaque in the back displayed written and pictorial directions on how to position oneself on the bars and stretch various muscles.

_I am going to break body parts on this thing._

Scanning the plaque with enormous amounts of hesitation, I looked for something easy. My eyes stopped on a pretty straightforward position which was meant to stretch the arms. All I had to do which reach up and grab the two outermost bars hanging above me, while keeping my feet firmly on the floor. It seemed simple enough.

_Lesson for future reference. Simple can hurt like a bitch._

My arms were screaming obscenities at me, all the way from my wrists to my shoulders. The directions said to hold the pose for 30 seconds, rest for 20 seconds, and then repeat two more times. The next five minutes of my life involved pain. Lots of pain. I stretched my legs, my torso…even my butt. My muscles, unfamiliar with such forms of torturous abuse, were all attempting to flee my body. I clenched my teeth and pushed through it. I was not going to be the loser who couldn't even make it through a little stretching.

So it was with extreme amounts of determination and a fatigued waddle that I headed for the elliptical. I could feel Edward's eyes on me as I started coaxing the machine's peddles into motion. The heart rate monitor screamed at me to grab the handles where the sensors were located. Not surprisingly, my heart was already racing, a mixture of exertion and nerves.

I became so absorbed in watching the time blink by on the dashboard; 30 seconds turned into a minute, a minute to two. As I was counting down my last 30 seconds, Edward's voice sounded from my left, scaring about ten years off of my already pitiful lifespan.

"After you've finished and wiped down your machine, meet me at the dumbbells."

"Okay," I gasped, trying to regulate my breathing as my five minutes ended and the machine beeped at me. For some reason, however hard breathing was while I was moving, it was even harder for the first few minutes after I stopped; almost as if my body didn't recognize the full effect of the exertion until it stopped. I pictured it going 'hey…you moved me in a fairly vigorous fashion for a moderate amount of time. What gives? This is not part of our couch potato regimen. Let me retaliate by making all the fatigue and lack of breathing hit you all at once when you're trying to rest.'

It could be said that I took my sweet time wiping the elliptical down. Some would call that a stalling tactic. I prefer to think of it as a healthy understanding of the necessity of sanitization in a gym setting. Finally satisfied that I had done an adequate job of making sure the machine was nice and clean for its next user, I tossed my paper towel into a trashcan and headed over to meet Edward.

He was leaning against a part of the wall not blocked by machinery. The furrow of his brows, the glare in his eyes, and the half scowl carved out in his lips, were reflected in the row of mirrors that lined the adjacent wall.

_God he has the sexiest scowl I've ever seen in my life._

Curious as to what was irritating him I followed his gaze and noticed a big, frighteningly muscular man making a big show out of lifting a heavy barbell. Every few seconds he would wink suggestively at a nearby female and flex with exaggeration.

_Looks like I'm not the only one who's annoyed by the antics of egotistical show-offs._

I motioned towards the object of Edward's discontent as I came to stand before him. "I guess you see a lot of that in a gym."

He shook his head in disgust. "Not usually. This is a gym for the average joe's workout needs, not body builders. They usually go to Port Angeles." With a shake of his head, Edward traded his scowl in for a sly grin. "So Miss Swan, are you ready?"

I suppressed the desire to scream "No!" and run away as quickly as possible. Instead, I gathered the little scraps of determination and confidence that clung to me, stitched them together in my mind, and wrapped them around my heart like a blanket. "I'm ready," I said. As the words passed my lips, I knew that they were true. It was time for change; it was time to take control of my self. Besides…this was just the first workout. It couldn't possibly be that bad.

Perhaps I did not come into this plan with realistic expectations. I had pictured this first session being less 'hands on'; that he would take it easy on me. My mind had imagined watching him go through the motions of the workout while I made notes and tried not to drool as his lean muscles rippled. This delusional daydream was promptly destroyed when I found myself with a 15 pound weight in my hand.

"I want you to hold the weight like this," he said, as he grabbed a dumbbell and held it lengthwise, his hands cupping around one end so that the other hung down heavily. "Then you're going to come over here and do wall squats." Again he demonstrated, bracing his back against the wall and dipping down into a squat, holding the weight level with his knees. "You're going to hold this position for as long as you can."

I pretty much felt like I was going to pee my pants out of fear. The look on my face must have adequately express that, because when Edward straightened and looked at me, his whole face was beaming with amusement. "You'll be fine, I promise."

The opposing groan caught in my throat, sounding like a whispery whine instead. I swallowed my nerves, gripped my dumbbell and positioned myself against the wall like he'd showed me. The minute I let my body slide down, my legs began to quiver, unaccustomed to such use. Little tendrils of fire began to scorch through my muscles, protesting my position with everything they had.

"Hold that position, Bella."

I closed my eyes and strained to remain still. My whole body was shaking now, a full scale revolt. It had only been a few seconds. This was too much too fast, it was too hard. Why did Edward think a fat couch potato like me could do this? Couldn't he have started with something easier?

Resigned, I gave up, and let my grateful body slump towards the floor. I had only held my position for eight measly seconds.

"Again."

My eyes shot upward in a panic, settling on the serious narrowing of his eyes and the tight line of his mouth. He wasn't kidding.

I glared at him in indignation. "If I couldn't do it the first time what makes you think I can do it a second?"

Pools of green hardened, their gaze raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Edward bent down on one knee, observing me sternly. "Don't you see? You did do it. I don't expect you to be able to lift gratuitous amounts of weight, or run a marathon mile. This is about taking little steps. Though just because they're little, doesn't mean they're easy. If this is going to work, you have to be willing to push yourself. Part of my job is to help you see that you're capable of more than you think you are. So we do this again, and this time you shoot to hold it for 20 seconds, okay?"

Instinct made me want to argue with him. How did he know what I was or wasn't capable of? But I'd asked for this, paid for this. It was too late to turn back. I was here, and if I didn't give 110% and take advantage of this opportunity then I was a fool. So I did as I was told, standing against the hard coolness of the wall and taking a deep breath before I slid down, both hands firmly grasping the weight. The burn returned immediately, and with a vengeance. After 5 seconds, my legs slid outward slightly from the strain.

"Keep that position Bella," Edward ordered.

But it hurt. My legs were shaking again. I slipped another inch.

_8 seconds…9 seconds._

"Bella, you can do this and you know it. Find your fight."

_Find my fight? Philosophy in a gym, really? All he needs to do is start talking backwards and he'll be my very own Yoda._

I could feel tears of shame pooling at the corners. I wanted to fight, but what was it that I was fighting? After all these years I was tired of trying to fight my self. So I struggled to hold onto all the times in my life I had not fought for myself and regretted it.

I thought of every person who had ever cut me with their words.

_Fat. Ugly. Stupid. Worthless._

I should have told them that they were wrong.

It struck me suddenly, that every second I held this position I was doing exactly that. I was telling them that they were wrong. That I had value as a human being, and I was not going to let their words stop me from finding that worth. I gritted my teeth.

Edward was counting out the seconds. "Fifteen, sixteen…you're almost there."

With all the emotional pain that my weight had caused me, that I had let it cause me, it made sense that my redemption was going to have to be pulled from physical pain. This was a pain that was going to build me up instead of tearing me down. I deserved what was waiting for me at the end of this pain.

_I can do this. _

All my life I had been a quiet, meek little lamb surrounded by lions. It was my turn to roar.

Strained grunts filtered through my mouth as I struggled to dominate my revolting muscles. Then I realized what number Edward was on.

"…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. Excellent work Bella. You can relax now."

I crumpled like a soda can against a frat boy's forehead. My breath tore through me in ragged gasps.

_I did it._

Edwards hand came into my line of vision, offering to help me up onto my unsteady legs. My poor legs, I could almost hear them screaming 'What was that you just did to us? What kind of vile, black hearted torture was that?'

The triumph lacing around the edges of my heart tied a double knot of joy when I saw that Edward was looking at me with a pleased smirk upon his face. I liked that he was proud of me. More importantly, I liked feeling proud of myself.

"What's next?" I asked.

The next 45 minutes were far from easy. I whined and almost cried, thought I was going to throw up twice, and felt pain in muscles that I didn't even know I had. Edward taught me lunges, made me lean back on a bench and bring my knees as close to my chest as possible while pinching a ten pound weight between my feet. He showed me that if I oriented the position of my feet between pointing straight, inwards, and outwards, I could work three different muscles on one machine. I perspired like a pig, I begged him to have mercy, and I often couldn't go as long as he wanted me to with an exercise. But I let him push me, and made attempts to push myself.

That was until he declared that it was time to do exercises on my abs. I had promptly looked down at my protruding gut and said "What abs?" which had made Edward dissolve into some deliciously husky chuckles.

It became immediately apparent that the ab-oriented exercises were going to be my least favorite. Pain was pain no matter where it was located. Edward had focused on my legs for most of this session and I pretty much felt like I was not going to be able to walk for weeks, but focusing on the torso area centered all the pain right on my stomach area and made me feel like I was going to lose my lunch and my dignity all over Edward's sneakers.

I managed to get through the excruciating discomfort of sit-ups when I realized that I couldn't see Edward's face while lying down, but would be rewarded with a glimpse of his 'oh so sexy when focused' face when I sat up. But even that started to lose its charm when I was on my third repetition of 15 sit-ups. The exercise he showed me to work my oblique muscles - which were located around the sides of my torso - were even more loathsome. He had me hold a ten pound weight in each hand while lying down with my legs pulled toward me in a sit-up position. Then I had to lift myself up to a certain degree - which I could never get quite right, and alternate my arms as I reached forward and attempted to touch my ankles.

When all was said and done, the exercise that Edward had termed "The Plank' was the worst by far. I had to roll over onto my stomach, which was embarrassing enough, because I knew my ass was right in his face. Then I clasped my hands together and leaned forward onto my elbows, keeping them lined against the floor, while raising my torso up so that I rested on the tips of my toes.

Yeah…I couldn't even hold that for ten seconds. So Edward made me do it like five times, stating that what I had the hardest time with was what I needed to do the most of.

I vehemently disagreed with that theory.

When I fell against one of the blue mats that lined the area set up for yoga stretches and abs for the fifth time, I was pretty much praying for the Grim Reaper to come and collect my battered soul A.S.A.P.

"Alright Bella, we're all done for today."

_Never mind Mr. Grim Reaper, sir. I'll take a rain check._

I groaned like an old woman with arthritis as I sat up. "We're done? You've sufficiently broken me for one day?"

"Yes ma'am," Edward answered with a smile, running his hand through his bronze hair. I was almost too tired to fantasize about tracing those fingers with my own.

Almost.

I started to head for the locker room, thinking that the idea of sitting down on the bench for a few minutes sounded heavenly.

"Ahh, you're not free yet," Edward called after me. "I said we were done, not that you were done. You still have to cool down."

"Doesn't that just involve resting? Like sitting on the couch with my legs up?"

He shook his head. "No, your muscles need a little more than that. I want you to do a slow and steady 10 minutes on the treadmill, and then stretch yourself out on the cage. It'll help your heart rate come down, and your muscles relax."

"That sounds like more work. How does that calm my muscles down?" I muttered, though I turned obediently as I griped.

He gave me an encouraging pat on the back as I limped off towards the treadmill. "See you on Friday!"

For a moment, the prospect of having to come back and do it all over again in three days made me wince. By the time I completed my cool down, gathered my things, and headed for the door, that feeling had been doused by an addictive surge of success and pride. I may have walked out to the parking lot with shaky legs and an unsteady wobble, but beneath that wobble there was a happy bounce in my steps.

When I got back to the house, I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch. My heart beat felt faster than normal and I could still feel the heat in my face lingering from all that exertion. I had no intention of getting off the couch ever, or at least, in the near future. I knew that eventually I would have to shower, and eat a healthy dinner, but for now, I just wanted to lie here. My peaceful plans were interrupted however, by Rosalie, who was immediately buzzing around me like an excited bee, wanting to know every detail of my work out and how it had gone.

I went to bed at 8pm that night, my legs still carrying pulsing embers of pain within their muscles. But despite the exhaustion, and the discomfort, I fell asleep with a satisfied smile on my face.

I had found my fight.

**(AN)-I know my updates have been scattered. I apologize. School's been insane this semester. I have 6 papers and 3 finals to do between now and May 9th. I'm going to do my best to update between now and then, but if I don't, you'll know why.**

**I do however have a contest o/s that I committed to which I'll hopefully be posting around the middle of next week. It's gonna be angsty though, just so you know.**

**Also I will be contributing an original o/s to a compilation for The Fandom Fights Mental Illness. If you're interested you can find out more here: **

**findingyourvoice-ffmi (.) blogspot (.) com -Remove spaces and paragraphs.**


	11. Blindsided

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

I've been trying to get my head around,  
What the fuck is happening?  
I'm trying to make some sense out of  
Whatcha doin' with my head.

It's like a skydive, you're getting high  
That kinda thrill that'll maybe kill ya,  
It's like I'm eye-to-eye, wild-eyed, oooohh  
I don't know what to tell ya,  
There's just this thing about 'cha.

~Ok Go, WTF?

Chapter 11- Blindsided

_Crunch…chew chew chew._

_CRUNCH…chew chew chew._

"Um, Bella? Did that carrot do something to offend you? I've never seen you eat with such homicidal undertones."

"This is bullshit, Rose! I've been eating nothing but healthy crap for two weeks now! I haven't lost a freaking pound! I'm going to the gym every day…EVERY DAY." I turned my homicidal glare upon Rose, temporarily switching the focus of my frustrations from a helpless carrot to an innocent friend. " Why isn't it working?"

Rose sighed. "Doesn't this stuff take time?"

"I know that…I'm not expecting to wake up tomorrow morning skinny, but really? I'm working my ass off and not getting anything out of it."

She took a moment to assess me, cocking her head and eyeing me critically.

"Your skin looks better."

"Gosh Rose, you really know how to put the wind in my sails," I said with a glare.

"You're probably not helping yourself much by getting on the scale every morning. Oh don't you give me that 'What do you mean?' look, Isabella Swan. You don't think I can't hear you creeping into the bathroom at 7am? Have you talked to Edward about it?"

I stared dejectedly at my food. "No."

"Why the hell not? Isn't this his area of expertise?"

"Because Rose, what if I tell him and he thinks I haven't lost anything because I'm stuffing my face with cake and shit when I leave the gym? I don't want him to think that."

"Bella, I'm pretty sure he's going to tell you that there's nothing to worry about."

I fingered the remaining remnants of my carrot with sullen dedication.

"Ask him when you see him today, Bella. You'll feel better," Rose promised, giving my shoulder a pat as she went to rinse her plate.

My sulky frown was wasted upon her retreating form.

_I hate it when she pulls that 'I'm wiser than my years' crap._

At two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, the gym is essentially dead. This is perfectly fine by me, because we're working on my arms today. Let's just say that I have never had very good arm strength, heck even the grip in my hands is pathetic. I didn't need a gym full of people to see me flounder about like a lunatic.

I knew the drill by now. After changing and locking up my possessions, I headed up front to the Arc machine. It had a design similar to the elliptical machine, but the motion of its pedals was smoother and it didn't have the stupid arm handles that moved. The other plus was that it burned more calories than the elliptical or the treadmill. It was my favorite machine. I kept my pace moderate, focusing on really stretching into the movements and getting my heart pumping.

I spotted Edward as I was wiping the machine down. He motioned for me to join him, and when I saw the machine he was standing by I began feeling extremely nauseous. I had seen other, less klutzy, gym members use it, but I had a feeling that this machine required physical aptitude that I simply didn't possess.

It sort of reminded me of the dunking booths you see at county fairs. There was a platform that people would kneel on which supported their weight, depending on how you leveled the weights that were secured into the right hand side. Then they grabbed one of the sets of handles up at the top of the machine and began doing pull-ups, but with the platform underneath of them keeping them stable and counterbalancing their weight to a degree. The machine looked complicated…and expensive. As I approached Edward I was overwhelmed by an awful fear that I would break that machine if I tried to get on.

Edward had pulled one of the blue mats over to rest next to the big, scary, nightmare machine. He observed me with the same slightly amused expression that he used at the beginning of every workout. Normally I'd answer this non-verbal challenge with a snarky comment, but I was not feeling it today.

"Please, Bella, don't look so excited," he teased.

"I'm not excited…because looking at this setup here makes me think you have plans of killing me today."

Edward feigned a hurt expression. "I don't know why you think such things of little old me."

I crossed my arms over my chest, and bit my lower lip.

"So Bella," Edward began, transitioning flawlessly into business mode, "here's what we're going to do."

_By 'we' he meant 'me'._

"One repetition of 15 on this," he continued, patting the side of the ominous pull-up machine, "and then you'll come down here on the mat and do 15 push-ups. Piece of cake.

_By 'piece of cake' he meant 'you will cry like a little baby and I will enjoy your pain because I'm a borderline sadist.'_

I wasn't exaggerating here either. If you weren't struggling with an exercise and on the verge of tears, he interpreted that as going too soft on you. He took the whole 'pushing' your self thing very seriously. The second time I worked out with him I thought I'd be a smartass and pretend I was having a really easy time on the row machine. I regretted that…a lot.

"So, Edward, when you say push-ups, do you mean the girly push-ups where you lean on your knees? Because I should just tell you now, I've never been able to do more than three of those, let alone the hardcore push-ups."

He frowned. I knew he really hated it when I went into Negative Nancy land before I'd even attempted the exercise, but it was only fair he have a realistic idea of my capabilities; or lack therefore of.

"You can do the push-ups on your knees," he answered. "Just do your best Bella. This isn't about achieving a certain number or repetitions with every exercise as much as it's about pushing yourself."

He always sounded so wise. Edward was like my gym Buddha. Only I didn't want to rub his tummy for luck…I wanted to lick it.

_Let's translate some of that licking energy into workout energy, Bella._

Edward ushered me forward and I took a deep breath as I took an uncertain step towards the machine of doom. Stepping up to that machine felt like I was stepping towards a pit of venomous snakes. I put one knee up onto the platform and then froze in sheer terror before backing away.

"I can't."

"Bella…"

I shook my head. "It's not gonna hold me Edward…I'll break it." The words cut into me like daggers as I spoke them.

He placed his hand on my shoulder, and those gorgeous eyes stared down at me intently. "Bella, listen to me. I'm not going to make you do an exercise you don't feel safe with, but I think you're going to regret it if you don't try. Do you really think I'd put you on a machine I wasn't 100% confident could hold you?"

The lip trembling was starting now.

_No, Bella! You will not cry like a spineless wimp in front of your trainer._

"Bella, what's going on in your head right now?" His voice was firm, but kind. I wanted to run into it and let it blanket me in safety.

There weren't adequate words to describe my emotional state. It was like some nameless shadow, some combination of every fear I'd ever had, was waiting for me on that machine.

Edward's voice was back again. "Whatever it is that you're trying to run from right now…don't. Stare it down, Bella. Use it."

A second passed, then two.

"Okay."

The voice that came out of me wasn't a lion's roar, but it wasn't the meek squeak of a mouse either. Being somewhere in-between was better than nothing.

It was not a perfect workout. That machine was harder than it looked. On my last repetition I was so fatigued that Edward had to support the platform a little, just enough to help me finish. He jokingly asked me what I called the atrocious form I was using for my push-ups. I told him I called it the 'Bella's trying not to fall flat on her face' form. I only managed to do two repetitions on the push-ups. My arms felt like they'd been ripped from my body, seriously mutilated, and then reattached.

No matter how hard an exercise is, no matter how many times you wish that someone would hit you very hard with a blunt object so you don't have to finish, there is a moment that occurs when you are finally done. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you are overcome with a feeling of accomplishment. You may not have done it perfectly, you may not have even done it moderately well, but you did it. In that moment, every other moment of excruciating muscular discomfort becomes worth it.

Until your trainer effectively kills your buzz by telling you that it's time to move onto the next exercise. _Sadist._

I glared at Edward with as much vehemence as my fatigued brain could muster. "Isn't it normally procedure to start with the simple exercises and then move up to the big 'going to make you so tired you can't move' exercises?" I asked, as I guided the weight in my hands over my head and then back down.

He smiled and shook his head. The movement, combined with the sun filtering in through the window created a rainbow of bronze shades in his hair. "Better to exhaust your muscles with the hard stuff first because then when you move onto the simpler exercises they have more of an effect."

"You're the boss," I replied, only partially alert. I was busy noticing how green his eyes looked today. The normally dark shade of his eyes seemed a little lighter today, flecks of a softer mossy color playing against the normal emerald hues.

Physical ineptitude plus distraction…equals pain.

Unknowingly, I overestimated the distance between the weight I was holding and my head. As I went to raise my arms upwards, the hard edge of the dumb bell clunked against my temple, resulting in a jolt of pain that began skipping across my skull.

"Jesus Bella, is it really necessary to give yourself a concussion _every_ week?" Edward exclaimed as he rushed to help me sit and took the weights from me.

I groaned and leaned forward, ignoring the moisture that had sprung from my eyes. "I told you I'm the klutziest person you've ever met times ten."

"I thought you were exaggerating." He squatted at my side, and even through the pounding in my head I was far too aware of how close his perfect face was to me. "Do you want some ice or something?"

Shaking my head to indicate a no seemed like a bad idea. "No I'm fine. My body is so used to getting hit or falling, the pain doesn't last long anymore. Just give me a minute or two and I'll be good to go."

My eyes were closed, but I heard him snort in response. "I admire your dedication."

I hadn't intended to be snarky, or to segue way into this topic in such a fashion, but the words tumbled out of my mouth of their own accord. "Yeah well it's not like my dedication is getting me anywhere."

"I'm sensing a little bit of frustration here."

I bit my lip and forced my eyes open. He was looking at me with an expression that was a mingled mixture of curiosity and concern. "Don't mind me. I'm just in a mood. I'm wondering why I've been busting my butt for two weeks and haven't lost a single pound."

"Listen Bella, you have to let the idea of numbers go. They're not going to give you a realistic idea of your success. You're building muscle here and that weighs more than fat. Everyone's metabolism is different. Some of my clients don't see weight loss until I've been working with them for a month. My advice…get rid of the scale and take measurements of your body once a month. The numbers on the scale may not move, but your clothes will get loose. Give it time, trust me, and you'll see results. I promise."

There was a soothing sureness in his voice. I suddenly felt very foolish for even bringing the topic up. Of course he wouldn't lead me wrong; he was the professional after all. I had spent so many years doing harm to my body with my eating habits, it was only fair I put in the same level of effort and commitment to finding my way to a healthy place.

After a few more minutes, the pain stopped ricocheting around my skull and I felt confident enough to stand. We finished up with the arm exercises and then headed over to the yoga area to work my abs. This session, even though it hurt like hell, I was able to do three full repetitions of ab-crunches. When Edward sent me off to do my ten minute cool down on the treadmill, he touched my shoulder lightly and said "Good job." It was a perfectly innocent gesture, a vote of confidence from a trainer to his client.

It made my skin tingle, and a shiver run from my stomach up to my heart. The feeling was scarily intense, like the drop in your stomach when you go down a rollercoaster. But when the ride is over and you're back on your feet, all you can think about is how much you want to go again.

The problem was that I was pretty sure I didn't have permission to get on this particular ride.

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"This is stupid, Rose," I muttered. "We could have just chucked the thing in a dumpster."

Her blonde hair played with the wind as she leaned against the shovel she'd procured. "Edward told you to get rid of the scale, right?"

I kicked at the ground and sighed. "He made a suggestion. That doesn't mean we have to be so theatrical about it."

Rose stood up, flashed me a cocky grin, and pointed downwards at the metal contraption in question. "There's no empowerment in tossing it in a dumpster. It's a metaphor. The scale represents all the pressures and misconceptions of body image. You've been told all your life that a scale will tell you the measure of your self worth. Can you really tell me that seeing it roughed up and turned into a useless hunk of metal wouldn't make you feel a little freer?"

She was insane…and overdramatic…but damn if she didn't know how to make a point. It wasn't like anyone would see us. We had driven out to a large field in the middle of nowhere. So at the very least we weren't bothering anyone.

Standing in the middle of a field with a shovel and a scale would be worth the weird vibes if it actually did give me a sense of empowerment.

Hesitantly, I took the shovel passed to me by Rosalie. "What are we gonna do after? I don't want to be environmentally negligent."

"I've got that covered. We shovel the pieces into a trash bag and drop it off in a dumpster on the way to Emmett's."

I looked at her incredulously. "How do you come up with this stuff?"

She shrugged. "I'm gifted. Now start hacking."

With a sigh, I lifted the shovel slightly and brought it down forcefully against the plastic face of the scale. I was unprepared for how the thud of impact would make me feel. It made me feel good.

I lifted the shovel higher. "You have no power over me," I growled, bringing my weapon down with more aggression this time.

Rosalie, ever the cheerleader, yelled her support at me. "That's right Bella; quote Labyrinth at that fucker while you make mince meat of it!"

Something animalistic took over me. I started swinging that shovel over my shoulder and bringing it down on that hunk of metal and plastic in front of me with every ounce of strength that I had. Every crack and crunch added more fuel to the flame.

_You don't define my worth, scale. I DO._

The words repeated in my head, a mantra that spurred me on until I felt I had done adequate damage to my enemy. The plastic covering the spot that read the numbers was shattered. The plastic and metal that covered the scale had been dented and compressed, the edges splitting open in gnarled curves.

I stood over my work, leaning on the shovel and catching my breath.

Rosalie sidled next to me like a giddy school child. "Now's the part where you say 'You were right Rosalie' and bow before my infinite wisdom."

"You were right Rosalie," I obliged, a smile on my face, "now use your infinite wisdom to help me get rid of this hunk of junk."

Fifteen minutes later, the kids hanging out behind a local restaurant must have thought the two giggling girls who jumped out of a crappy truck to hurl a black trash bag into the dumpster were loony. We were, but honestly…who isn't loony these days?

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We had quickly been informed that Emmett's parties were bi-weekly, and when he was throwing a bash you could bet your bottom dollar that everyone in town under the age of 25 would be there. I'd done well enough at the first party that I found my nerves were almost non-existent as I followed Rosalie up the steps. Emmett greeted us with big bear hugs when we got to the front door, as if he'd known us forever. I did notice, however, that his hug with Rosalie lasted a little longer and his hands rested considerably lower on her body. Ten to one they would end up making out tonight.

Angela Webber greeted me with a smile. I'd discovered that she worked at the local bookstore and our love of literature had led us to form a fast bond. As per usual, Alice gave me a strange look that was a mixture of curiosity and dislike. An uncharacteristically bold part of me wanted to walk over there and ask her what her problem was. The rest of me was far too timid to actually follow through.

That would be a battle for another day.

Edward arrived late. Just in time for a round of beer pong. I was beginning to think that Emmett was an eternal frat guy. I wasn't a fan of beer and the wine was a little too strong for my palate, so I refrained from drinking.

I did pretty good food-wise, sticking to the veggie plate and an open-faced burger with a nice helping of lettuce on the side. For such a beer pong lover, Emmett certainly had some nice food at his parties.

When I wandered into the kitchen in search of another Diet Coke, disaster struck. I was face to face with my mortal enemy.

Lemon Meringue Pie.

I know. Most people's dessert weaknesses were things like Devil's Food Cake, or Cheesecake, or Ice Cream. But there was something about the tart lemon crème inside mingled with the fluffy lightness of the meringue that made me weak in the knees.

This pie was untouched so far, a picture of pie perfection. The spiky turrets of the meringue were slightly browned, beckoning me to break into its fluffy goodness.

That pie and I had a staring contest for a good five minutes. My mind pleaded with me to have just a little nibble, just a little sliver. I hadn't lost any weight yet, so a piece of pie couldn't hurt. The muscles in my legs, still sore and shaky from my from my earlier workout, told me not to fall…not to fail…not to undo all the work I'd done.

"Do you and the pie need a room, Bella?"

When I heard Edward's voice, a crimson blush of shame broke out across my skin like a bad case of poison ivy. "Lemon Meringue is my kryptonite," I admitted, hanging my head and waiting for my chastisement.

So I was completely thrown when he said in a teasing tone, "Then have a piece."

I glanced up in shock. "Um…pie isn't conducive to weight loss is it?"

He smiled and proceeded to grab a plate. "You can't completely deprive yourself of food Bella. It's unrealistic to think that you'll never have a plate of pasta, or a piece of pie again. A healthy weight loss plan is a realistic weight loss plan. It's not about never having a treat, it's about learning moderation. You worked hard this week. It's okay to have a piece of pie."

Grabbing a knife, he cut a small sliver from the pie, placed it delicately on the plate, and turned to me with what can only be described as the most temptingly sexy smile I had ever seen in my life. "As your trainer…I am advising you to eat this piece of pie with no guilt whatsoever."

I hesitated for only a second. "Well if you're going to twist my arm…" I grabbed the plate with one hand, and a fork with the other. My plastic utensil greeted the fluffy meringue like a lover, sinking into it slowly. I brought the piece of pie to my mouth with reverent dedication. The flavor exploded on my tongue like a pie version of Fourth of July fireworks.

In that moment…there was only me and the delicious taste of lemon and meringue pirouetting against my taste buds. I realized that if I was eating this back home, I'd be scarfing it down so fast that I barely tasted it. Here and now I savored every bite.

When I was done, I remembered that I was not alone. Embarrassed, I looked up and expected to see his normal expression of amusement.

I was not prepared for the smolder in his green eyes, the taught line of his lips, the way his body seemed to be orienting towards me. Startled, I froze like a deer in headlights as he took a heavy step towards me…then another…and another.

He was so close. I could see the twitch in the corner of his lips, feel his breath touch my face, and see all the flecks of green swimming in his eyes. "You have a little meringue… right here," he whispered huskily, his fingers coming up to tenderly caress my upper lip.

It was like a dream. I was Alice, following a white rabbit down a hole to Wonderland.

There was only time for a soft gasp before his mouth pressed gently against mine, soft and seeking, warm and consuming. A slow, long shiver caressed its way up my spine, and I melted into his touch.

Until reality knocked on the door to my happy place and brought me back to consciousness.

Desire was replaced with burning fear and a wave of confusion. Before I realized what I was doing, my hand flew up in an attempt to end this conflicting contact in the swiftest way possible…by slapping fiercely against Edward's cheek.

_WHAT THE FUCK?_

He flinched and released me, his hand flying up to his cheek and an unreadable expression masking his face.

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked, before tearing out of the kitchen like an animal fleeing from a wildfire.

Rosalie was in a corner of the living room, cozily situated against Emmett. Her eyes flew wide with shock as I practically flew into her, my hand clenching around her wrist. I spoke into her ear, trying to be as firm but quiet as possible. "I need to leave. Right the fuck now, Rose."

It was probably the f-bomb that clued her in to my desperation. Without a word to Emmett, she allowed me to pull her up and out the door.

My whole body was shaky and I felt sick to my stomach. When I settled into the passenger seat of Rosalie's car, the frail control I'd been hanging onto shattered and I became aware that I was chanting "What the fuck?" over and over again.

Rose was as yet, unaware of my complete mental breakdown. She was talking as she got into the car. "While I'm proud as a peacock that you've finally embraced your inner sailor with the whole cursing thing, I'm kind of confused as to what the hell is going on?"

_That was my damn question too._

Even though I knew she was clueless, I found myself turning to her as the words tumbled out of me in a panicked shout.

"What the fuck, Rose? What the fuck just happened?"

"I don't know what the fuck just happened because you're having a word seizure and not making any sense!" Rose yelled back as she pulled out of the driveway. "Bella you're starting to scare the shit out of me. What's wrong?"

The words tasted of lemon and meringue as they poured past my lips. "Edward kissed me in the kitchen and I slapped him."

Rose blinked, and glanced over at me before returning her eyes to the road, and then let out a breathy "Oh."

I slumped against the passenger seat, my heart beat pounding in my ears.

'Oh' didn't even begin to cover it.

_What the fuck just happened?_ My mind whispered. _What the fuck just happened?_

**(AN)-I tried to make this chapter longer and interesting for you guys. Thank you for being so patient while I was in update fail mode. End of semester finals killed my creativity and it took me a while to reconnect with the plot. As always thank you so much for taking the time to read. It means the world to me to share this story with you guys.**


	12. A Rainbow Smile

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

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All the colors  
Of the rainbow  
Hidden 'neath my skin

Hearts have colors  
Don't we all know?  
Red runs through our veins

Feel the fire burning up  
Inspire me with blood  
Of blue and green

I have hope  
Inside is not a heart  
But a kaleidoscope

~Sara Barielles, Kaleidoscope Heart

Chapter 12-A Rainbow Smile

There is a moment in waking, when the dust of sleep is still clinging to our eyes and consciousness has not yet spread its steely tendrils through our minds. These moments are brief bliss, a cloudy haze in which you are not yet tainted by thoughts of burdens, responsibilities, or needs. It is the simplest feeling of untainted existence, but of course it fades. You need to eat and pee, go to work, or begin your day with some other responsibility. All the worries and weight of the waking world come crashing down as you are forced to trade in your dreams for memories you'd sometimes rather forget.

Like the fact that your smoking hot trainer kissed you, and you responded by slapping him. That certainly wasn't the best realization to wake up to.

Equally disturbing was the movement caught by my peripheral vision that caused me to jump upright in bed and let out a terrified squeak. The frightened exclamation melted into a frustrated sigh when I realized that it was Rosalie squatting at my bedside.

"Wakey wakey sunshine," she prodded in an irritatingly sweet falsetto.

I groaned and rolled over. "Five more minutes."

"Hell no. No more hiding for you, Bella. It's almost noon, get your slap happy ass out of bed. "

Wincing at the 'slap happy' comment, I pulled my covers up to my chin with stubborn commitment. "I'm not hiding."

Rose snorted, and then my covers were roughly pulled away. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt ya know."

With the protection of my covers gone, I was forced to hide under my pillow. "The river of denial is warm and cozy, and I am going to live here forever, or till someone offers me a less sucky alternative." My voice was muffled by the pillow, but I knew Rose had heard me. My last barrier of defense was wrenched from my hands and then brought down upon my head forcefully.

I rolled over with a glare. "You're gonna assault me with a pillow? That's how you want to start my day?"

She raised her weapon in preparation for another assault. "Sorry sweetie. The rainbow and sunshine wake up call was at eight. Noon is the painful torture fest." She gave me a gentler swat with the pillow. "Rise and shine princess. Make me come back for you again and I'll bring my laptop and make you listen to that godawful Rebecca Black song till you get up."

Suffice it to say I got up after that threat.

I prepared myself a meager lunch, a lean turkey and cheese sandwich on a low carb wrap with a fruit salad and a tall glass of veggie juice.

As I finished my meal and headed to the kitchen, Rosalie passed me, fully dressed and carrying her shoes. I was curious. She had gleaned from me every detail regarding last night's drama and called me stupid in every way humanly possible before I fell asleep, but normally she'd be using the day after to give me a repeat performance.

"And where are you off to?" I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.

"Emmett's coming over. He's gonna take me on some of his favorite trails."

"When did you become such a nature lover?" I teased, raising my eyebrows.

She gave me a mischievous smirk, and turned her attention towards tying her shoelaces. I finished washing my dishes and settled down to watch some TV, intent upon distracting my thoughts from settling on Edward. A mindless, gory horror film was my distraction of choice.

Only a few minutes into the opening murder scene, I heard the crunch of a car coming up the driveway. Rose waved goodbye and ran out to meet Emmett. The car pulled away and I returned my attention to the hack job being done upon a busty redhead. Then there was a knock on the door. Thinking that it was Esme, coming by to check upon us as she was prone to do, I didn't hesitate in answering the door. The hesitation came when I saw auburn locks and green eyes and realized it was Edward standing in front of me. I gaped at him, unable to move past the shock until he opened his devastatingly beautiful mouth and spoke.

"Bella."

At that moment I became painfully aware that I was standing before him with greasy hair, an unwashed face, and a worn Tinkerbell nightgown that showed far too much of my legs and gave me no reason to bother wearing a bra.

In short I looked like ten kinds of shit.

Edward was opening up his mouth to speak again. I didn't catch a word because I was busy slamming the door in his face. I fell forward against the smooth wood, cursing whatever twisted deity kept putting me in these situations.

"Well, I guess I should be glad that you didn't slap me."

Mortification tore through me. "What do you want?" I wailed in horror.

"To talk. You know, it's that thing where people stand near each other without any slamming of doors or slapping of faces and share words."

_Right, cause I've done so well with conversation up till now._

"How did you even get here?" I demanded with a little more aggression coloring my tone than I had intended.

"I came with Emmett. Are you gonna let me in or am I going to have to keep shouting at you through a slab of wood? Personally, I think the first option would be more enjoyable for both of us."

_Oh hell._

"Can you give me 15 minutes to attempt to look slightly less disgusting than I already do? I know I already scarred you for life with what you saw before I shut the door, but the little piece of dignity that remains in me would appreciate it."

It was gentle, but I thought I heard him sigh.

"First of all, you don't look disgusting, and secondly you didn't scar me for life. But yes, I'll wait."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I raced to the bathroom, trying to rush to clean up and calm my racing mind at the same time. It became apparent almost immediately that I was not going to be good at multitasking right now.

My face was vigorously scrubbed, hair speedily washed over the side of the tub, and then there was a desperate race to find a clean outfit that was nice enough to show I wasn't a lazy grease ball but still gave off a casual vibe.

When I finally made my way back to the front door, it was with the same hesitant creeping steps utilized in horror films when the character was about to open the door to the psychotic masked murderer.

_Note to self, take a serious break from horror movies for a while._

Of course it wasn't a twisted serial killer I opened the door to, but pools of green that watered my soul like a desert oasis, streaks of auburn flames that warmed me like a cozy night by the fireplace, and a smile that dazzled me like there was a rainbow being reflected from his upturned mouth to my heart.

All of the above led to a dumbfounded freezing of my limbs, as my mind struggled to rationalize the completely illogical feelings playing bumper cars inside my brain.

"Bella, are you okay?"

I managed to wipe the half drooling 'the lights are on but no one is home' look from my face.

"Yeah, um, I'm fine. What did you want to talk about?"

Edward shuffled his feet and then took a deep breath. "About last night…"

His words trailed off into a black abyss. It hurt to see him look so uncomfortable, as he searched for the right way to say what was on his mind. I was positive that I knew where this conversation was going; therefore it seemed only logical for me to cut to the chase and hopefully make things less awkward for the both of us.

"Look Edward, I get it. You'd just finished, what, four rounds of beer pong with Emmett? Alcohol makes people do things that they regret, I understand. No harm came from it, everything is fine. I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us during training, so I'm more than happy to just pretend that the whole thing didn't happen. So there's nothing for you to worry about, okay?"

The confusion on his face surprised me. I'd been expecting to see relief.

"Bella, that's not…I mean…yeah I'd had one too many beers, but…I don't regret kissing you. I certainly regret the way it happened; if my left cheek remembers correctly you weren't particularly pleased about it, and for that I am sorry. Honestly I'm not quite sure what that was between us last night, or where it came from, but I am certain that I don't regret it."

He looked up at me with questioning eyes, waiting for a reaction to his words.

Utterly talented wordsmith that I am, the best thing my shell shocked brain could come up with was "Oh…"

_Yes, my sheer poetic aptitude astounds even me. _

I wanted to slap myself silly for lacking the ability to hold a semi-descent conversation with members of the opposite sex.

Edward met my eyes with an uncertain gaze. "So I suppose my question is…do you regret it? If you do…then I'll be one hundred percent on board with your 'let's pretend it never happened' plan. But…if there's a chance that you don't regret what happened, then I'd really like to take you out to dinner tonight."

"Edward, don't say this because you feel sorry for me."

I hadn't intended for those words to come out, and I wasn't quite sure where they'd come from, but I regretted saying them when I saw the hurt in those beautiful green eyes.

"Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

"No! I'm sorry…I didn't mean…Jesus Edward; in case you hadn't noticed I'm not a very skilled conversationalist. I don't think you're that kind of a person, it's just…" I held my hands out before me, an attempt to give him a visual representation of my helplessness in this situation. "I don't know how to answer you. No one has ever said anything like that to me before, and I'm so overwhelmed right now that I literally do not have the mental capacity to even begin to decode where my head is at." I took a breath, and having used up all the energy my brain seemed to possess at that moment, lapsed into a helpless silence.

My rant pretty much screamed 'Beware! I contain immense quantities of emotional baggage. Run away while you can!' If Edward had truly been interested in me, I had probably just nipped that in the bud.

"Okay."

I wasn't prepared for 'Okay', or the understanding and empathy in his voice. It quite literally took my breath away for a moment. He wasn't done yet either.

"Here's where I'm at, Bella. I know that I've been admiring your humor, your kindness, and your soft-spoken and humble nature. I've been in awe of the dedication you've shown in the gym and how much you've grown over a mere two weeks. That's what I know so far, but I'd like to know more. So if it's alright with you, I'd like to take you to dinner. No expectations, no strings attached, just two people getting to know each other better.

_No really, where is the Twilight Zone music? This is the part where I wake up and have to face the usual expectations of reality, right?_

I blinked once, twice…but I was still there, and he was still looking at me with those questioning eyes that made me melt faster than a snowman in the Sahara. Well as long as I was dreaming…

"All right, dinner sounds nice."

His face lit up, and it took me with it. No one had ever lit up in response to me before, unless I counted Rose…which I didn't. Rose's glows of triumph didn't hold a candle to seeing someone shine because you'd agreed to go to dinner with them. It felt unbelievably nice, warmth that soaked up through your fingers and toes and then spread up to your heart.

"Great," he said, tethering me to him with another brilliant rainbow smile. "Does six sound good to you?"

I smiled shyly in return. "Six is perfect."

"Perfect," he repeated, his eyes still on me as he stepped backwards towards the car, "I'll see you then."

Suddenly I remembered whose car it was that he was heading for. "Isn't that Emmett's jeep? Don't you have to wait for him?"

"No…Yes...that is to say…yes it's Emmett's jeep, but no I don't have to wait for him. Rose agreed to drive him back to his place after their hike."

My hands moved to my hips and I cocked my head at him inquisitively. "Rose agreed? So what was I the only one who didn't know you were coming? Did the three of you have a secret meeting or something?"

I suppressed a smile as the tips of his ears turned pink and he let out a nervous chuckle. "There may have been an early morning phone call during which some details were discussed."

_He's so freaking cute that it's almost unbearable. Almost._

"So six o'clock, right?" He had the car door open, but was leaning past it to address me. Little glints of sunlight played across his tousled hair, like skipping stones across water.

"Yep, I'll see you then," I answered.

"It's a date," he called back.

The 'D' word immediately gave me heart palpitations. "Dinner," I corrected, "not a…just dinner, right?"

His mouth twitched into an endearingly sexy crooked smile. "Just dinner. You got it."

With a final wave he got into the car and disappeared down the long gravel driveway. The minute he was out of sight and the crunching of gravel under tires had faded, I went into full blown panic attack mode. What would I say, where would we go, and how did I avoid acting like a complete idiot?

Most importantly of all…what the heck did one wear to a 'Just Dinner'?

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"You should really let me do your hair for the date tonight. Oh…and I hope you're going to wear something a little nicer than what you've got on now, because that is not appropriate date attire."

"Rosalie, I love you, but if you don't stop saying the word 'date' I am going to puke all over your $400 Jimmy Choos," I snapped, as I struggled to get my hair to behave. It was a battle I'd been losing for about 45 minutes now.

Feigning horror at my threat, Rose took a few steps back and perched on my bed. "Don't take your nerves out on my shoes."

"Then stop adding to my nerves," I replied, giving up on letting my hair stay down, and angrily sweeping the strands back into an understated bun. "Besides, it's not a date, it's just dinner."

Rose snorted and stalked towards me, pushing my hands out of the way. My bun was loosened, allowing soft strands to fall forward to frame my face and whisper against the nape of my neck. Then she leaned in to whisper teasingly, "No girl spends that much energy on her hair for 'Just Dinner'.

She had a point, but I certainly wasn't going to acknowledge it.

With Rose's approval, I decided on a soft blue, short-sleeved blouse that hugged my bust and fluttered loosely across my stomach. Paired with black capris and strappy, heel-less sandals, it made me feel casual but pretty at the same time. Dressing, however, turned out to be the easy part. Waiting for Edward to arrive without hyperventilating was where I ran into trouble. Rose had only been able to keep me still enough for a light dusting of a sandy pink eye-shadow and a quick coat of sheer, mauve lip-gloss. After that I'd given in to my urge to pace nervously about the living room.

The kitchen clock mocked me with its measured ticks. Slowly creeping seconds seemed to echo in my head like a doomsday siren. Yet when that knock on the door finally came, I wasn't ready and time had suddenly gone by too fast.

Rose nudged me toward the door with a reassuring squeeze upon my shoulder. I talked myself through the walking thing, grabbed the metal handle, and pulled.

I nearly imploded on the spot when I saw him. He was sporting jeans and a light beige v-neck tee with an unbuttoned grayish green quarter sleeve shirt over top. It was sinful how good those clothes looked on him. For a brief second I fantasized about merely being a button on those clothes. Then I acknowledged how creepy that was and reigned in my craziness.

"You look lovely," he observed, and I sharply reminded my heart that it needed to calm down if we were ever going to make it to the restaurant.

"I like your shirt," I replied; completely tactless as usual.

"Thank you," he said, leading me to his car and opening the passenger door.

_Eat your heart out, Cinderella._

Edward settled in his seat, and even with all of the leather of the seats and the gear shift between us, he was alarmingly close. I drank him in like I was a parched desert and he was the first rain in months.

"So, where are we going?" I asked as casually as possible, trying to ignore how much I wanted to reach over and trace his jaw line.

This wasn't the first time I'd been close to him. Physical proximity happened frequently during our workouts. So why was I so discombobulated? Maybe it was because I'd never been alone with him before. There were always people in the gym, and the few times I'd been around him at Emmett's house there had been people around.

Except for that one time in the kitchen…but look how well that turned out.

"I'm taking you to my favorite restaurant. It's this family owned place in Port Angeles; best food in the entire state of Washington.

"I thought eating out was the number one no-no on a diet."

The crooked smile was back, twisting his lips in the most maddening way. "Real weight control is about being realistic. Humans are social creatures. It simply isn't feasible to expect yourself to never go out to eat. So you learn some tips, and you figure out how to decipher which items on the menu are the healthiest options. Now enough about that, you tell me more about yourself?"

I did just that. Edward had this uncanny ability to make you feel comfortable with opening up. It wasn't like he pressured me into speaking, more that he filled me with a burning desire to spill my life story. Oddly enough, it felt so easy that I felt like I wasn't speaking at all, but that he was reading my mind.

His questions lasted all the way to the restaurant. Edward Cullen scoffed in the face of 20 questions. His game was more like 100 questions.

I found that I didn't mind a bit.

The restaurant was small and cozy, decorated with twinkling lights and full of smells that made my mouth water. The hostess addressed Edward by name, flashing him a smile that was both familiar and salacious at the same time. He must have frequented this establishment on a solitary basis, because the woman seemed unpleasantly surprised to see that he was not alone. She led us to a table, and as we sat down, she leaned in towards Edward at an angle which was meant to cut me off.

"Have a wonderful meal, Mr. Cullen, and please, let me know if there's _anything_ I can help you with." The intent behind her words was crystal clear.

The surprising part was that Edward seemed to have missed it all. He was completely oblivious to the batting of the eyelashes and the sultry undertones. It was like he was a dog, completely oblivious to the fact that he was swimming in a tub of kibblesnbits.

I must have had a look of wonder on my face, because he cocked his head inquisitively. "What?"

"You don't realize the effect that you have on people, do you?"

"What effect is that?" he inquired, distracting me with the way his long fingers crept around the edges of his menu.

"You dazzle people," I explained. "That woman would have jumped on the table and done the chicken dance if you asked her to."

That crooked smile played peek-a-boo with me over the top of his menu. "And you?"

The packets of sugar to my right suddenly became very interesting as I blushed crimson under the influence of his attention. "Me what?"

"Do I dazzle you?"

_Yep, yes, yeah, uh-huh, oui, si and a big fat yes in every other language too._

"I suppose you could say that. You make me nervous…not that I'm not usually nervous, but you raise the hyperventilation alert from a code blue to a code red. It's your smile, really, that does the most damage. You have a rainbow smile."

A low chuckle escaped his throat, and I ducked my head in embarrassment as he lowered his menu to give me his full attention. "I have a _what_?"

"A rainbow smile," I responded shyly. "My mom used to tell me that I had one when I was little. Some people…when they smile, they have this brilliance to them that fills you up. It's kind of like the feeling you get when you see a really vibrant rainbow. Stupid I know…"

"No," he shook his head and regarded me warmly, "it's not stupid at all. Nothing you ever say is stupid."

_I am not going to make it through this dinner._

"Okay," I said, trying to regain control over my bodily functions, "help me navigate this menu. I don't know where to look. I should probably get a salad, right? That's the healthiest bet."

"Not necessarily. Depending on the dish, some salads have as many calories as a drive-thru meal. Besides…I think you can do better than a salad. Avoid anything that is deep fried or breaded. Think lean meats or fish."

I took in his words and perused the menu carefully. The waitress came and asked us what we'd like to drink. Well…really she asked Edward what he'd like to drink. I kind of hurled my desire for lemon water at her as she left.

"What about this? Herb-crusted tilapia; it's baked fish with seasonings on top to give it flavor."

"Excellent choice, Bella. Now that meal comes originally with mashed potatoes and broccoli. The potatoes aren't too bad, but you can trade them in for another side if you want fewer calories."

I did want fewer calories. I ordered the tilapia with the broccoli and traded in the mashed potatoes for some grilled zucchini. Edward was amused when I told him that out of all the other options, zucchini was one of the only vegetables I actually liked. Edward ordered the grilled salmon, and got the same sides as me.

"So," I prompted, as the waitress left with our orders, "time for you to tell me all about yourself."

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "Ask away."

"Did you always want to be a physical trainer?"

"No, not always," he responded, playing with the condensation on his glass, "my father is an architect and for most of my childhood I dreamed of following in his footsteps. But when I was ten my mother took her life, and things changed."

"Edward, I'm so sorry."

His smile was sad, but still warm. "After that, I decided I wanted to build people up instead of buildings. I wanted to give them health and a sense of self worth. A good workout in the gym is as good for the soul as it is for the body."

"That's really admirable," I said, playing with a packet of sugar. "I wish I was as sure of what I wanted to do with my life."

"I'm sure something will come to you, and whatever you decide to do I know you'll be great."

I blushed and looked down at the table.

The warmth of his hand covered my own, releasing a colony of frantically fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

"Compliments make you nervous." It wasn't a question, but an observation.

I shrugged and pulled my hand back, because his touch was doing confusing things to my thought processes. "Do I look like the kind of girl who gets a lot of compliments?"

He paused for a moment, regarding me with a look that made my skin tingle. "I think you look like the kind of girl that deserves to get a lot of compliments."

_How in the hell does one respond to something like that?_

Luckily distraction came in the form of our meals. Conversation remained light as we ate. I asked him more questions and he gave me more answers. He was an only child, who hadn't gotten along very well with his father after his mother had passed. At the age of 18 he had left home and found himself in Forks. A chance meeting with Esme had led to him being taken in by the Cullens. He was welcomed into their family as if he had always been there, and they'd helped fund his certification in personal training.

After that the questions stopped and the equal shares of conversation began. We talked about favorite tv shows, movies, music, books, and other hobbies. Our tastes were fairly similar in every category but music. My musical range was short; I tended to only listen to one radio channel. Edward was horrified at my lack of Beatles knowledge and immediately proclaimed that he was going to give me a musical education. I was not opposed to that plan at all.

I was so satisfied with my dinner that I didn't think about dessert once. Normally, that was the whole point of my meal. The food was a means to an end…a dessert end.

Apparently Edward was providing me with all the sweetness I could handle.

The drive back to the house seemed to end my hazy happy vibe. The closer we got, the more I began to worry. What was the proper etiquette for a 'Just Dinner', and was that all that had just occurred? Did I want it to be more than dinner, and if it was…could I handle it?

There was silence as he walked me to the front door. I saw no sign of Rosalie through the sliver of uncovered window, but I knew she was hiding in there somewhere…ready to pounce and demand that I share every juicy detail.

I stood in an awkward silence, unsure of what to say. The best I could manage was "Um…I had a good time. Thanks for…dinner."

"I'm glad. I had a good time as well." He was standing a polite distance away from me, but the way his eyes bore into mine made me feel like he was inches away. "Do you think that this might be something you'd like to do again sometime?"

Truth be told, I'd had more than just a good time. I hadn't made half as many stupid remarks as I feared I would, and if he wanted to…

"Yes. I think I would."

His resulting smile made me feel like I'd just won a million dollars. "Good. Thank you for a lovely evening, Bella. I'll see you on Tuesday?"

"See you then," I whispered.

He headed back down the steps, and I looked down to shuffle through my purse for the house key.

"Oh, and Bella?"

I looked up to see that he had stopped at the side of his car. The curve of his crooked smile was enchantingly highlighted by the moonlight, and it made me feel slightly light headed.

"Yes?"

"You have one too, you know."

Confusion furrowed my brows. Had I missed something? "One what?"

"A rainbow smile," he answered, just loud enough for me to hear it. Then he was in his car, and disappearing down the driveway, flashing me one more dazzling smile before he disappeared out of sight.

When I finally gathered my wits and headed into the house, I wasn't just walking on cloud nine.

I was walking on every damn cloud in the sky.

* * *

**(AN) I was really nervous about this chapter. I wanted everything to be perfect. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it!**


	13. Fluttering, Stuttering Heart

**Disclaimer-I do not own Twilight, nor any of the affiliated plotline or characters. I do, however, own the epic update fail you've had to suffer through. I apologize. God bless you if you're still reading.**

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When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

When you know, you know. I know with you I'm going to go somewhere I've never been.  
But it's where I want to be, I breathe easy for the first time.

~Kenotia, Until This Day

Chapter 13-Fluttering, Stuttering Heart

Some people think of hell as a black pit of torture and flames. Others actually propose that its burn is of an icy nature. Personally, I picture hell as a never ending grocery store. Think about it…aisles that are always too small for two people to function in, everything you need always on the top shelf out of reach, cash register lines that are held up for fifteen minutes by selfish jerks arguing with the cashier over the price of every single one of their purchases.

It definitely felt like hell to me.

"The stupid sticker said the goddamn tuna was half off," the middle aged, balding man in front of me was protesting.

The weary looking cashier was fighting to keep the polite smile on her face. I felt so bad for her. This man had purchased about a week and a half's worth of groceries, and he was contesting the final price of every item she'd rung up.

"I understand, sir, but the flyer also said that the sale was only applicable to customers with a membership card."

"Why the hell do I need to be a 'member' in order to get a package of tuna? This is a fucking grocery store not a country club!"

I would have switched to another line, but there was no one behind me and the other three lines were longer. There is a possessive connection made between a person and the thing they're waiting for. You just know, that the second you step out of your place, whatever delay was holding you up will magically disappear and you'll curse yourself for not sticking it out.

Lowering my head, I attempted to drown out the B.S. going on in front of me, because if I had to listen much longer I was going to give in and rip that man's head off. It also didn't help my situation that the shelf next to me was full of candy bars and after fifteen minutes of fighting my building rage they'd gotten very appealing.

_The Reese's Peanut Butter Cups poofed themselves into my cart of their own free will._

_I swear._

_Okay…maybe not…but I only took one and that's better than taking five, right?_

Finally, the jerk in front of me departed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"My apologies for the wait, ma'am," said the cashier as I moved forward.

"That's okay, Olivia," I answered, reading off her nametag. I gave her a smile as I moved my purchases to the conveyer belt, guilt coursing through my veins as I set down my chocolatey stowaway. "I don't envy your position at all. It's got to be tough to have to play nice all the time. If it makes you feel better, I'll try and run that dickwad over with my cart if I get out there before he leaves."

This looked like a plausible plan too, because I could see through the storefront windows that he'd stopped at the curb and appeared to arguing aggressively on his phone.

Over the steady beeping of the scanner acknowledging my groceries, Olivia gave a small chuckle and shook her head. "That's sweet, but no thanks. You run over one dickwad, and then it's two, and then three. Next thing you know the human race is dying out because you've run over most of humanity. The road to a dickwad apocalypse is paved with good intentions."

We shared a laugh as I paid for my things, and I hoped she didn't get any more crappy customers for the rest of the day.

As I traveled the gravel of the parking lot, I kept glancing down to my plastic bag, where the orangey brown colors of the package of Reese's were prominently visible. At this point…it would be stupid to try and turn around. What was I going to do, go back into the store and say "Hey sorry, I was having a moment of weakness but I'm better now."?

_That wouldn't be embarrassing at all._

Maybe I could nonchalantly leave it atop the trunk of a nearby car. Some little kid who had been denied candy while in line with their parent would think that they'd been blessed by the candy fairy.

_But that would be a waste of the $1.29 I just spent on it._

A few minutes later I was starting the truck, the candy packaging still peeking at me through the plastic bag. I felt like it was calling to me with the zeal of a neon sign.

"I'm ignoring you," I proclaimed, shooting a glare at the bag as I pulled out onto the street.

_Great…now I'm talking to candy, that's not at all pitiful or slightly psychotic._

The entire ride home I was a mess of tension and warring desires. I wanted to grab the candy and hurl it out the window. At the same time, I wanted to savor the taste and texture of the perfectly balanced swirl of peanut butter and chocolate against my tongue. I wanted to be able to say that I could have that little bit of candy and not lose control for the rest of the day.

But even I couldn't lie to myself here. A taste of that candy would send me into a feeding frenzy like a drop of blood in shark infested water.

So when I pulled up the driveway and saw that the trash that Rosalie and I had brought out to the curb had not been taken yet, I hesitated only slightly in grabbing the package of temptation and tossing it into the trash can where it made a thump of finality amongst the other garbage.

_Bella: 1, Chocolate Temptation of Doom: 0._

_Huzzah_

It wasn't until after I'd gone inside and put away the groceries that I stopped to check my phone. For a moment excitement raced through my veins at the sight of the unfamiliar number in my caller history. Maybe it was Edward? I'd given him my number when I'd signed up for our sessions, in case he ever needed to cancel. It was nearly noon on Monday, and I hadn't seen or heard from him since our "Just Dinner".

Unfortunately for me, when I checked my messages I realized it was just Renee calling from a payphone because she'd lost her charger again. The woman lost technology with such talent that it was almost an art form. I smiled and shook my head as I listened to her long winded message detailing her time in Florida, and informing me that she was heading home in another two weeks.

Despite my mother's cheery voice, I was disheartened as I entered the house. On the one hand, I'd never officially given Edward my number in a "let's hang out" kind of way. On the other hand, I'd given it to him when I first signed up at the gym, so he could call me if he was ever running late to a session. It was at his disposal to use if he so pleased.

_Maybe the dinner had been pity-based after all._

"Maybe he's waiting for you to dictate the next move since you were the one who labeled it as "Just Dinner".

I stopped, startled by Rose's unexpected voice. "You know, it really creeps me out when you talk to me like you can read my thoughts."

She shrugged at me over the back of the couch. "Nah, I can just read your face. You could always call him ya know. It _is_ the 21st Century."

My response was a fervent head-shake. "And look pathetic and needy? No thanks. I have to be casual about this, or I'm going to have a nervous breakdown."

Rosalie's perfectly arched eyebrows raised themselves at me with little mercy. "You've checked your phone more times than I can count since that dinner. I'm pretty sure a nervous breakdown is more likely to be in your future if you _don't_ call him. You want to know where you two stand, don't you? You don't want your gym session tomorrow to be awkward and tense because you're freaking out."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm deleting all those episodes of Oprah from your TiVo when we get back to Phoenix. She's making you way too insightful for your own good."

Rose dropped the topic for the rest of the night, probably because she could tell her words had already gotten to me. I could play it off while I was awake, but in sleep the truth always found me.

That night I had one of those strange dreams that base themselves off of a memory. I was fifteen, and at the stage in my life where chubbiness was morphing into something out of control. Renee had decided to take me rock climbing for my birthday. She hovered above me, coaxing me to climb. I stood with both feet firmly on the ground; certain that there was no way the harness could support me.

"Bella, sweetie," my mother called to me, "come climb with me. Don't let this be something you regret."

This was where the dream and reality took separate paths. In truth, I had refused to climb, despite my desire to do so, despite how fun it looked. I had cried all the way home, and it became an experience that I always looked back on with feelings of regret.

In the dream, however, I found courage. My fingers and toes clung to the crevices and colored supports in the rocks as I hoisted myself up. Renee gave me an encouraging smile and continued her climb ahead of me. With every push upward, my confidence grew. Then, when I was about halfway up the wall, I felt my harness begin to give. Desperate, my eyes sought out Renee for help, but she was nowhere to be seen. As the harness peeled away from me, and my fingers failed to hold me on their own, I realized that I was all alone. With a heavy heart I closed my eyes…and fell.

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By the time Tuesday afternoon rolled around, I was so nervous that I was contemplating calling out sick. If it weren't for the knowledge that Rose would have dragged me to the gym herself, I might have. But Rose and the thought of facing her knowing glances scared me more than facing Edward, so with unsteady feet I timidly made my way through the doors to the gym. I was a little relieved when I was met with Emmett's wide grin instead of Alice's sour expression.

"Well fancy seeing you here," I observed teasingly. "What's the boss man doing grunt work for?"

He leaned back in his chair playfully, and shrugged. "Alice needed a day off, and I needed a break from the migraine-inducing pile of paperwork on my desk."

I handed him my card and he shot me a mischievous grin as he scanned it. "So…how was your weekend?"

My face immediately took on a color that was like three shades of sunburned. Despite his casual tone, his eyes were telling me that he was asking me about my night with Edward. Seeing my obvious reaction, Emmett gave a quiet but triumphant laugh.

"I think I like you better when you're out of sight doing paperwork," I grumbled as I yanked my card back and headed to the locker room. His far too amused gaze followed me, and for a second I actually missed Alice.

Edward was leaving the men's locker room as I was turning into the women's and we crashed into each other gracelessly.

"Easy there tiger, you're supposed to be sore after the workout, not before."

I smiled at him apologetically. "You can't put klutziness on hold."

"I plan on testing that theory; five minute warm-up on the treadmill and then we work on your legs. My goal is to get you through a whole workout without having you fall and nearly take out a piece of gym equipment."

"Putting me on a yoga ball next to the dumb-bells was your smart move, mister," I responded with a faux glare as I headed into the locker room.

As soon as I was out of sight, I collapsed against the wall and let out a tense breath. Rosalie was right. Edward had seemed perfectly casual and at ease, but I was freaking out. Over analyzing everything he said, over analyzing everything I said. I felt awkward and more uncertain and foggy-brained around him than usual.

Usually my warm-ups felt like they lasted forever, cardio was my least favorite aspect of my workouts. Today, however, my nerves made it seem like it was a mere five seconds before the timer was beeping at me. I didn't know why, but the thought of the proximity Edward kept during our sessions filled me with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. Just when I'd begun to gain a small amount of comfort around him, dinner had come along and thrown me back to start…like some cosmic game of Sorry.

I took my time wiping my machine down, trying to collect my racing thoughts as I shuffled over to the dumb-bells where Edward was waiting. He had two fifteen pounders ready for me, and thrust them at me mercilessly.

"Lunges. Three reps of fifteen. I want you to really get your back knee close to the floor this time."

Nodding, I assumed the position, my right leg angled in front of me and my left stretched out. I lowered myself, trying to bend my front leg just enough to keep me stable, while bringing my back leg down as if I were trying to kneel. When it came to lunges, the descent wasn't as hard on me as trying to come back up. I tried to use the weights in my hands for balance, but they only added to my unsteady wobbling. When Edward bent to correct my positioning, I would nearly jump out of my skin at his touch. He must have noticed, but he kept the air of a professional and didn't say a word. I managed to make it through the lunges and the subsequent wall squats, but I knew I was lacking focus and performing below my usual par. My undisciplined brain kept breaking from the task at hand and drifting back to Saturday night.

_In a gym full of well-toned females…why would he want anything to do with me? What could I possibly offer him besides a ton of self-esteem issues and other emotional baggage? _

Having never even dared to picture myself in a possibly romantic relationship, I had to wonder if I'd missed my chances at ever developing the social skills necessary to have one.

Rose always told me that I used my weight as a crutch. It was my armor to hide behind, my excuse to stay in the corner and watch my life from the sidelines. Maybe she was right…but how did one even begin to go about shedding so many layers of walls? Diet books told you how to attack the physicality of being overweight…but the book on battling the emotional and mental aspects was still blank as far as I'd seen.

I snapped back to attention as we finished with leg exercises and moved on to abs. As I was attempting to hold the Plank for longer than ten seconds, I heard Jessica's voice, sickly sweet and oozing flirtation. I didn't dare break my position, so I was stuck staring at the wall, but that didn't stop me from hearing every word.

"So…Edward," she purred, "I'm throwing a little party at my house this weekend, and I was really hoping that you'd come. You're always working so hard here, and I'd love to see you have some fun." Her voice got disgustingly husky at the end, and I had to fight the urge to whirl around and snarl at her like an animal.

I felt slightly mollified when I heard the irritated tone in Edward's response. "Jess, I'm with a client right now. This isn't the time."

_Take that Big Boobs._

"Oh…I'm so sorry, I didn't realize. I'll just catch you later then."

In that moment, I really should have turned around and thanked Jessica. Her not so subtle attempt at flirtation had done a fabulous job of clearing my head.

I wasn't sure if she'd left yet, but when Edward called time, I sank to the mat with grateful exhaustion. Allowing myself a moment to breathe, I rolled over and took note of the agitated scowl etched across his face. But I tried not to read too much into it. It had been rude of Jess to interrupt when he was clearly working, especially when she'd done it with such a lascivious air. That still didn't mean he was interested in me, or that my offer would be any better received.

Edward ran me through two more exercises, and then sent me off to the elliptical for my cool-down. The whole time I was terrified that I was going to lose hold of the tiny flicker of courage that had sparked within me. I was finished, and wiping my machine down when I noticed Jessica exiting the locker room. Edward was at the front desk, and her eyes locked onto him with the ferocity of a predator.

I tossed my paper towel into the trash and made a beeline for the front desk. Across the gym, Jess noticed my movement and tilted her head at me in a way that said "what do you think you're doing you fat cow?" I quickened my pace and raised my eyebrows in a way that said "eat my dust, asshole."

I may have been double her size, but it became apparent rather quickly that I had the swifter stride. Jessica didn't stand a chance. I was exhausted, my hair was a sweat-drenched, ratty mess, and I was pretty sure I smelled like B.O. But the truth was…290 pounds was a lot of armor to carry…and it was high time I put it aside and stepped out from behind my walls for a little while.

Poor Edward looked like he nearly peed himself when I suddenly slammed into the side of the front desk. I knew Jessica was seconds behind me, so I blurted out the only thing I could think of under pressure.

"Can I talk to you in private?"

Stunned, he blinked a couple of times and managed a soft "Yeah?" before Jess came to a violent stop next to me. She opened her mouth to speak and then…somehow, Emmett realized what was going on and became my savior.

"Hey Jessica…my computer records are showing that you didn't pay this month's membership fee."

Her too-tanned face scrunched up in confusion. "There has to be a mistake…"

Emmett pulled her over to the other side of the counter, and I didn't hesitate in leaning forward before I ran out of time. "Edward," I began in low tones.

"What just happened?" he interrupted in a confused whisper.

"Not important. Listen…you know how I said I wanted Saturday night to be 'Just Dinner' and not a date?"

The furrow in his brow deepened. "Yes."

"If I were to say that I retract that previous statement…that I think Saturday was more than dinner… and that I'd like you to come to my place sometime this week for another more than dinner…what would you say?"

For five seconds I didn't breathe as I nervously awaited his reaction. Then, in slow motion, I watched as that sexy crooked smile spread across his face and he said "I've been hoping you'd say that for three days."

Relief washed over me in a giant wave. With that wave went all the adrenaline that had been fueling my courage and the nerves came crashing down again with force. "Um…okay…uh…is Thursday night good? Maybe six o'clock?"

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied, and I felt my heart do the flutter, then stutter thing again.

"Okay…great." I headed toward the door, trying to play it cool. That plan didn't work, as I suddenly realized I'd left all my belongings in the locker room.

I'm sure I looked like an idiot as I haphazardly backtracked. Yet I just didn't care. I also didn't give a crap when Jess, who was still unknowingly being played by Emmett, gave me the evil eye. No, I took my fluttering, stuttering heart and I walked out of that gym like I was the hottest woman Forks, Washington had ever seen.

For a second or two I even believed it, until I tripped and fell into a parked car, sending the anti-theft alarm into a frenzy.

Like I said, you can't put klutziness on hold.

**(AN) Missy and Ains make my words grammatically correct and full of sense. I love them to bits. Jo and Stef gave me the verbal but kicking I needed to get back into the game. Olivia lent me some of her comedic brilliance. You guys are better than stowaway peanut butter cups in my shopping cart.**


	14. Growing Pains and Board Games

**(Disclaimer)- I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended. I do, however, own the fact that I'm actually updating this chapter in a timely fashion. *Throwing myself a mental ticker tape parade***

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When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

Some days you're lookin' my way

Everyday I just can't get enough

A frantic clash of feelings

Every time we meet I get a rush

~I Get a Rush, Stellate

Chapter 14-Growing Pains and Board Games

"Okay, Rose…the bra I get, but what's wrong with the clothes I picked out to wear?"

I glared at the back of her head as I reluctantly shuffled my way down the sidewalk, clutching the bag that held my newly purchased "over the shoulder boulder holders" as Rose called them. I'd spent three hours the previous night planning out my date outfit. Suffice it to say I was slightly peeved at Rosalie's overly dramatic dismissal of my choice. She'd gone so far as to say that she'd sell her Jimmy Choos for five bucks online before she let me wear that outfit.

"Because," Rose replied as she ushered me into a well known plus size store, "the clothes you have at home are for a girl that likes to hide. You and I both know that Edward is not the kind of guy you want to hide from."

"I picked out a tank top…how is that hiding?" I argued. Rose dragged me to the nearest clothing rack. "Bella, that shirt is two sizes too big on you. The arm holes practically go down to your waist."

"That's how plus sized clothes are made," I grumbled, as I sulkily sifted through a rack of clearance tops.

If looks could kill, Rose's would have burned me to ash, brought me back to life, and then killed me again. "_No_. That's how the crappy, two sizes too big clothes you buy fit. Can you please just trust me?"

I sighed in resignation. "Fine, but no dresses or skirts, and please keep it casual." Rosalie beamed as if I'd just told her that she'd won a lifetime supply of designer shoes.

Fifteen minutes later, I was eyeing the pile of clothes I'd been sent into the dressing room with like it was a pile of hissing rattlesnakes. Closing my eyes, I took a breath and told myself not to be a coward.

I felt like a complete idiot as I hopped around trying to get into a pair of these disturbing Spanx contraptions which Rosalie swore by. Finally, after what felt like a century of attempts to straighten the tight material, I reached for whatever bottoms Rose had picked out, scared shitless that it was going to be some sort of short skirt. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that she had taken into account my hatred for shorts and skirts, instead picking out a pair of knee length, loose around the legs, black gaucho pants. Normally, pants were either too tight or left me with the crotch hanging to my knees, so I was pleasantly surprised at how nicely this pair fit. Feeling a little bit braver, I reached for the next article of clothing.

When it came to shirts, I almost never wore plain colors. Patterns or prints made me more comfortable because I felt they distracted from my actual body. Therefore I was rather disappointed when I saw the shirt that Rose had picked out for me. The fabric of the red, v-neck tee was soft against my skin, but I was underwhelmed when I looked into the mirror. The shirt fit perfectly along my arms and chest, but clung to my mid-section in a way that made me feel self conscious.

"I'm not sure, Rose," I said as I opened the door and stepped out to meet her eager eyes.

She drank me in for a moment and then frowned slightly. "Where's the belt?"

"Belt?" I popped back into the dressing room, and spotted the black material on the floor. It was thick, with four rows of woven material ending in a silver buckle. Emerging with a look of confusion, I held the belt up. "What am I supposed to do with this? These pants don't have a place for a belt."

"Close your eyes," Rose commanded. I obeyed, and felt her working the belt around, letting it sit over my shirt and high at my waist.

When I got the okay to open my eyes, my mouth dropped open in surprise. As if it had some sort of magical property, the belt seemed to pull the outfit together, providing a casual yet trendy vibe and adding interest to my otherwise plain shirt. One little accessory had completely changed the tenor of the outfit as a whole.

I had worn my fair share of pretty clothing. The mixture of a few semi-formal occasions, and instances where Rose insisted that I wear something other than printed tees, had filled my wardrobe with sprinklings of silky shirts with fancy patterns and cuts. Despite the sometimes brilliant plumage I had amassed, I still couldn't help but feel that putting a few swan feathers on an ugly duckling didn't make it feel any less ugly.

"See," Rose was saying, "I told you that you should…Bella? Why do you look like you're about to cry?"

Previously unnoticed tears began to collect on my eyelashes. I hastily wiped at my eyes as I mentally chastised myself. "I don't deserve to wear nice clothes like these," I sniffled. Hands on my shoulders whirled me around so that I faced Rosalie and the fierce look in her eyes.

"Isabella Swan, I love you dearly, but when you say untrue, fucked up shit like that it kinda makes me want to turn you into a human shake weight."

A new wave of tears threatened to jump ship, and Rose's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled thickly, "I don't even know why I said that. God, I must seem so pathetic right now."

"You're not pathetic, sweetie…just human. Remember when we were teens, how every time we had some unexplainable ache or pain your mom would tell us they were growing pains? What you're doing with trying to get healthy and learning to love yourself…that takes a mental kind of growth. Just think of this as your soul's version of growing pains."

In a strange way, her words made me feel better. "I'm starting to think you were a life coach in a past life," I declared with a small smile. Then I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm getting the outfit. Just promise me we're done shopping for the day?"

Rose flashed me a triumphant grin as I headed into the dressing room. When I finished redressing, I took a look at my tags so that I could estimate the price of my purchases. I blinked a few times, rechecked my math, and then let out a heavy sigh. My bank account was about to go through some growing pains too, or more accurately...some shrinking pains.

_Note for future reference. The search for health and self esteem is __**not**__ cheap._

Later that night, I found myself glued to Rose's laptop as I sought out something to cook for Edward. I wanted dinner to be something mildly interesting, yet simple enough that I wouldn't burn the kitchen down while trying to make it. As I contemplated the lemon chicken dish my Google search had led me to, Rose walked by.

"Hey, Bella, you're on your own for dinner tonight. Don't wait up for me."

I think she was surprised at how fast I was off the couch and standing in front of the door. "Oh no you don't!" I declared, the heat of girlish intrigue spreading through me. "Where are you going in your 'my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard' top and your 'I want to have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss you' ballet flats?"

She raised a mildly amused eyebrow. "Do you have nicknames for everything in my wardrobe?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Stop trying to deflect."

Rosalie sniffed in disapproval, though there was excitement in her eyes. "If you must know, 'Nosy McNoserton', I happen to have a date with Emmett."

The "scandalized with delight" squeal that erupted from me may have been so high pitched that only dogs could hear it. My delight quickly morphed into accusation as I pointed a finger at my best friend. "You…and Emmett…and you weren't going to tell me? That breaks like five different codes of the best friend handbook! What gives?"

"You're going to laugh at me if I tell you."

"I'm going to slap you silly if you don't tell me."

Rose sighed in resignation. "I didn't say anything because I don't want to jinx it. Emmett is…unlike any other guy I've ever met. I suppose I didn't want to look like an idiot in your eyes if he turns out to be too good to be true."

I was taken aback by her confession, having been prepared for a snarkier reply. "You could never look like an idiot to me," I said softly, moving forward to wrap Rosalie in a gentle embrace. "You're all the things I wish I could be." Straightening, I stepped back before things got too mushy. "Now…go have fun with Emmett. I'd say 'don't do anything I wouldn't do' but it would be more like 'don't do anything I haven't done yet' and that would just be unnecessarily cruel." With a snicker at my own joke, I ushered my best friend out the door, and returned to my Google search of 'Bella-friendly-but-date-appropriate' meals.

One would think that the combination of terror and excitement regarding the upcoming dinner with Edward would have rendered me too hyper to sleep. On the contrary, my brain preferred to slip into the silky comfort of unconsciousness when I got overstressed. By ten o'clock I was climbing into bed, having finally decided what I'd be making for Edward. Mediterranean chicken with broccoli sounded easy enough, and I'd even found a recipe for healthy pseudo mashed potatoes that involved cauliflower. I drifted off to sleep while counting off the items on my mental to-do list.

There were no dreams of darkness or falling…only blissful unawareness and the velvet blanket of sleep.

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I awoke to tantalizing scents making their acquaintance with my nose. Still half asleep, I headed down the hallway with a zombie-like stagger. My brain was suddenly jolted to full alertness when I passed Rose's open bedroom door and got an eyeful of a very naked Emmett sprawled across her bed, the sheets a tangled mess held hostage by his feet. My stunned mind allowed my eyes to linger with inappropriate curiosity for a second or two before I let out a tiny yelp, covered my eyes with one hand, and felt my way out into the living room with the other.

Rosalie was found at the kitchen stove, humming as she poked at something within a pan, a plate and a bowl with yet to be cracked eggs sitting to her right. She was dressed in a pair of sweats and her favorite t-shirt, but the evidence of her evening was found in the nest of tangled blonde hair atop her head, and the languid way she swayed to and fro on her toes.

I eyed what she was cooking, and let my hip rest against the counter as I gave her my best 'you're in trouble' look. "Oh, Emmett gets sausage and I get veggie juice and cereal that tastes like tree bark? I see how it is."

Rose rolled her eyes at me, and shot me a look of feigned hurt. "I'll have you know that I originally bought this turkey sausage for you, Miss Bella Swan. If you want, I can just give it all to Emmett."

"Speaking of Emmett…next time you leave him butt naked in your bed, could you have the foresight to cover his junk so that your best friend doesn't get an unexpected peep show? That's _not_ the kind of sausage I wanna see this early in the morning."

I received an unapologetic shrug as she plated the sausage and began to crack the eggs. "A few more dates with Edward and you'll be whistling a different tune about morning sausage."

With a glare, I snuck a piece of sausage off the plate. "Can we not talk about 'more dates' when I'm not even sure I'm going to survive this one?"

"Bella, what are you so worried about? The guy's been watching you nearly kill yourself on gym equipment for weeks now…he knows you're a socially awkward klutz. What do you think is going to happen?"

Rose was right; I knew that. Unfortunately, knowing that your feelings are unfounded and overdramatic doesn't just make them disappear. If only it were that easy.

I was saved from further self-analysis by the emergence of Emmett, thankfully clothed, and looking like a big teddy bear as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Do I smell sausage?" he asked hopefully.

"Don't get too excited," I advised, "it's the healthy, fake version."

Rose pointed at me with the spatula. "Your heart is gonna thank me for the healthy version."

"Yeah but my taste buds aren't. They're already declaring mutiny."

The plight of my taste buds gained me no sympathy from Rosalie. In truth, I ended up enjoying the turkey sausage, though I ate so fast I barely tasted it. I was happy for Emmett and Rosalie. She glowed around him and I knew he'd treat her with the respect she deserved. That didn't mean, however, that I wanted to watch them make googly eyes at each other all through breakfast. They were starting to look like the plastic stick on eyes people used for arts and crafts. I cleaned up my plate, and moved to the couch, distracting myself from the mushy love-fest going on at the table.

Just as I was starting to get into some godawful sci-fi movie, I felt the couch move beside me, and heard Emmett clear his throat. "So Bella…what are your intentions with Edward?"

"Um…excuse me?"

He crossed his thick arms, his eyes lit with amusement but his face composed into a serious expression. "I'm just looking out for my best friend. I want to make sure you aren't out to compromise his virtue or anything."

I held up my hands in mock admission. "You caught me. I'm out to corrupt him with my wicked and wily ways."

"That's what I like to hear," Emmett said with a throaty chuckle. "In all seriousness…he's one of the best guys I know. You be nice to him…or I'll have to revoke your gym membership." He added a finger waggle in front of my face for added measure.

It was sweet, the undertone of genuine protectiveness in his voice. "And what happens if he's not nice to me?" I asked.

Emmett thought that one over for a minute. "Then he gives you a refund on all your training sessions."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," I said, teasingly.

Emmett leaned over and ruffled my hair. He then made his way into the kitchen where Rose was washing dishes and smacking her ass shamelessly. I couldn't tell whether I thought of him as a big brother…or a pervy uncle.

Eventually, Emmett had to leave for work. Rose watched him go with a big goofy grin on her face.

"I guess I don't need to ask how your date went last night," I observed.

A distinctive shade of red crept along her cheekbones. I had never in my whole life seen Rosalie Hale blush. "At least now I have somewhere to go tonight so that you and Edward can have the house to yourself."

"Ah the sacrifices you make simply for the benefit of your best friend."

"It'll be hard…but I'll manage."

We shared a snicker and then Rose set about helping me plan out my night, helping me gather the dinner supplies and prepare what I could beforehand. She made me rub lemon slices dipped in baking soda over my face, for exfoliation. I was forced to sit still while she gave me a mani/pedi, and against my better judgment I was talked into letting her tweeze my eyebrows.

If beauty was pain, then this date better be the sweetest healing salve known to man.

By the time six o'clock came around I was dressed with a light touch of makeup and gently tousled hair. Rosalie had left an hour ago, and I'd been alternating between making dinner and trying not to nervously sweat off all my makeup. The cauliflower was lumpier than I wanted…the broccoli had been overcooked, and the chicken was dry. Maybe Edward would give me an A for effort?

I did not jump when the doorbell rang.

Okay…maybe I jumped a little.

Just the tiniest little jump, really.

My toes barely even left the floor.

Somehow I managed to walk to the door like a normal person, and my hands only trembled slightly as I turned the handle. As the door opened to reveal a ravishing looking Edward, he held my gaze like a magnet while my eyes desperately tried to take inventory.

Perfectly tousled auburn hair that I was dying to run my fingers through?

_Check._

Green eyes that set of a chain reaction of laser tag throughout my body?

_Check._

Tight fighting green shirt that matched his eyes and showed his lean musculature in a way that made me want to roar like a lion and pounce?

_Ohhh CheckCheckDoubleCheck._

A Monopoly game supported in his sexy fingered hands?

_Wait a minute…_

"You know," I observed softly, "most people bring flowers to a date."

Edward smirked, distracting me with the far too tempting curve of his sexy lips. "Flowers smell nice…but I've always thought they were kind of passive. You learn a lot about a person by playing a board game with them. Are they a sore loser…a sore winner? Do they cheat? Are they too competitive to make the game enjoyable? Besides…Monopoly is a classic childhood pastime."

_Sweet lord in heaven, did you create this man just to turn me into a puddle of quivering Jello?_

"Bella, are you going to invite me in?"

I attempted to pick my jaw up off the floor and get my head together. "Yes…sorry. Please come in."

"You look very pretty," Edward said as I shut the door behind him.

Dropping my head, I attempted to hide the blush as I took the game from him and placed it on the couch.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone who looks as cute when blushing as you do," he continued. Clearly he was attempting to kill me with sweetness before we actually got to the dinner part of the date. With knowledge of the dinner I had waiting for him, it was probably for the best.

Ever the gentleman, Edward ate the meal with nary a complaint. The conversation however, flowed in a much more appealing manner. He was funny, and when he made me laugh his eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned in satisfaction. When I asked him a question that he had to think about, his tongue would dart out and caress his bottom lip ever so subtly. I found myself drawn to him as if by a magnetic pull. When he moved, I shifted in return. When he shifted back in his seat, I leaned forward. When he smiled, I felt like the sun had taken up residence in my heart. He even volunteered to help me clean up after dinner.

With dishes washed and leftovers in the fridge (though I doubted anyone would be eating them) I meandered over to the couch and picked up the Monopoly box. You could tell he'd had it for a while. The box was bent at the edges, discolored with age, worn with love and use. I had borne a passionate love for the game in my youth, at one time playing it every day for about three weeks straight. As I got older, people started declining my requests to play. Why bother with board games when there were cell phones, computers, and video games?

Just laying eyes on the box filled me with the desire to feel the dice in my hands, feel the joy of getting all the properties in a respective color, and watch the pain on my opponents face when they landed on a property that was decked with a hotel.

_This was going to be the best first date ever._

Edward opted for the car as his token. Typical choice for a male. He was surprised when I picked the wheelbarrow as mine. "Surprising…most girls pick the dog or the horse."

I shook my head with a smirk. "No sir, I consider the wheelbarrow to be a metaphor for all of the loads of money I'm going to get."

My confession earned me a laugh and my favorite crooked smile. "Oh it's on!" he declared.

We talked a little in the early leg of the game. Edward was the banker, so all I had to focus on were my moves, my cash, and my property. He had what looked like an early lead when he landed on Park Place, the second most expensive property, on his second lap around the board. I learned that his favorite animals were elephants, his favorite color was blue, and his favorite greasy food was cheese steak.

His questions to me were much less predictable. He asked me things like "What's the first thing you can remember wanting to be as a child?" or "What's the weirdest dream you've ever had?" or "Have you ever actually tried to find out exactly how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop, and ended up quitting because your tongue got really sore?" The last question made me laugh so hard, that I almost forget it was my turn to roll.

After landing on Edward's Park Place a couple of times, I gained an advantage when I landed on Boardwalk, effectively ruining his chance at having the most expensive colored properties under his belt. Edward began a desperate attempt to get me to trade with him, offering me his railroads, and even going so far as to bribe me with $1,000. I turned him down every time, because really….any payment he could give me once wouldn't be worth the innumerable amount of times I might land on his property and lose money. Plus I'd begun to pull ahead as I acquired all of the purple, orange, and red properties, giving me an entire side of the board and a corner on the other side.

It was pretty much death row for Edward. He couldn't get past that strip without landing on something, unless he got lucky and wound up on Chance, Community Chest, or a railroad. Once I got some houses up on my properties, I really started to drain him.

The culmination of the game occurred when he landed on New York Ave and owned me $1,000 for my hotel, and then on his next turn landed on Illinois avenue and owed me $1,100 for my hotel. He managed to pay for the first property, but he only had $500 on him when he hit Illinois Ave. Which meant he was gonna have to start selling the few houses he had on his property, and maybe even mortgage some stuff. He raked his hand through his hair in horror as I hooted with glee.

"Wait! I think I made a mistake. Yeah…I rolled a six, not a seven."

"Edward you liar, the dice are right in front of me."

He lurched forward and attempted to turn one of the dice over. I grabbed his arm and tried to hold him back, giggling hysterically at his desperation. "I didn't peg you for a cheater! You landed on my property fair and square mister! Pay up!"

"I refuse!" he roared playfully. "I smell a conspiracy. You've somehow smuggled trick dice onto this board that are programmed to do your bidding!"

"You wish! Gimme my rent Edward!" I squealed, attempting to free my arm from his hold.

The tenor of our little game changed suddenly. Edward's mouth drooped into a little pout, but his eyes gained a fiery intensity to them that sent shivers down my spine. "Maybe I can pay your rent in a non-monetary fashion?" He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the inside of my wrist

I tried to keep the nerves out of my voice. "That…that's not how you play Monopoly."

The green fire burned hotter. "Maybe I don't want to play anymore."

"Oh…" the word was a hypnotized whisper; hypnotized because Edward's eyes had locked onto my own and frozen me, as he leaned forward across the game board, cupped my face gently in one hand, and urged my lips forward to meet his halfway.

Kissing Edward was like kissing sugar, spice, and pure electricity all at once. Tiny jolts flew from every place where a part of him was touching me and began to bounce around my insides like ping pong balls. There was heat…and desire, but then there was so much more. The feeling of peace and comfort that comes from being touched in a tender fashion by another person was one that I had not felt since I was small and my mother used to brush my hair before bed. A soft moan rustled deep in my throat, and my right hand came up to finally make it's acquaintance with the auburn strands my fingers had been daydreaming about for weeks.

I don't know if he was waiting to see if I'd slap him like I had at Emmett's party. But when I grabbed at his hair he gave an encouraging groan, and his kisses became more fervent. Suddenly the world was moving strangely around me, and I was on my back against the plastic of the game board. I could feel the money, and the dice, and maybe even some tokens beneath me, but none of that mattered, because Edward's hands were firm against my waist and the pressure of his lips against my own made everything else around me absolutely insignificant.

There was no sense of time, as he wreaked a sweet, heady havoc upon my brain. We could have been tangled up together for hours…days…and I wouldn't have known the difference. The only thing that brought the term 'sense' back into my mental understanding was when he began to kiss his way down my neck.

Suddenly images of my pudgy parts being touched by him brought my self-conscious nerves to a screaming high. Embarrassed, I stiffened beneath Edward's touch, and he immediately reacted to the change. Hastily sitting up, he helped me do the same, keeping a respectful distance while we both sought to catch our breath.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean for things to get that intense."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize…it's fine. I just…I'm not really used to any of this and it was just a lot at once."

"The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable, Bella."

"You didn't Edward. I made myself uncomfortable," I insisted, hating the look of concern and guilt in his eyes. "God this is so embarrassing. It's just…there's a lot of emotional baggage…and certain ways of thinking about things that I have to work through. They make me a little weird about the whole 'physical contact thing'. Those are my issues that I have to take care of. Please don't feel bad. I um…"the blush reappeared on my cheeks, "I liked most of it."

He relaxed, and a boyish grin of self-pleasure snuck across his face. "Does this mean I don't owe you any money for Illinois?"

"I never agreed to those terms," I replied mischievously, making him groan in disappointment.

We did end up finishing the game. It only took about five more turns until he'd run out of money and properties to mortgage. After we cleaned the game up, we moved to the couch, where some nameless movie played in the background while we kissed and talked some more.

Edward didn't say anything about my earlier discomfort, but his touches were gentle, his kisses soft and giving, instead of hard and demanding. I melted into him, leaning my head on his shoulder, letting him stroke my hair as we conversed about dreams, fears, family and friends.

When I yawned into his shoulder for the third time in less than twenty minutes, he sat up with a warm smile. "It's late. You should get some sleep."

I walked him to the door and his goodnight kiss was soft and long, leaving me breathless by the time he stepped away. When you've never ever taken the time to think you'd ever be in a romantic relationship, the littlest things make your stomach dissolve into butterflies. When Edward brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I was filled with the most complex, hard to describe, mass of quivering emotions.

"Goodnight, Bella," he whispered huskily.

"Goodnight, Edward," I answered in a soft daze, teetering slightly on my feet.

I stood on the porch and watched him leave, not retreating inside until I saw his tail-lights disappear. As I passed the couch I realized he'd forgotten to take his Monopoly with him. I considered calling him to come back and get it, but decided I'd rather use it as an excuse for an eventual second date.

There were still a few residual butterflies dancing inside of me as I changed my clothes and washed my face, but I didn't mind. It was with a happy sigh that I took my mass of quivering emotions to bed. As I pulled the covers up to my chin, and buried my head against the cool pillow, I drifted off to sleep with one final thought.

I'd gained a whole new love for Monopoly.

**(AN)- My story is up for fic of the week on The Lemondade Stand blog. This blog is fabulous, and gives out so much love to amazing authors. Go check out the poll, and vote for your four favorites, even if it's not me. www (.) tehlemonadestand (.) blogspot (.) com *Remove spaces and parentheses***


	15. Puzzle Pieces

**(A/n)-"What is this?" you must be asking yourselves. "An actual update? With words and plot and characters?" Yes, yes indeed it is. I have numerous excuses for my update fail. First my house got hit by lightning and took out the ethernet port on my desk top. Then I bought two new laptops and the internet wasn't working right in either of them. Then I finally got that sorted...but I was busy having a nervous breakdown over the fact that I was being told that I was 5 credits short for graduation in January. Then that got worked out but I got sick. Then this semester decided it would kick my ass with like 6 different 6-8 page research papers.**

**The moral of the story is...life sucks sometimes...and I'm sorry. Thank you for waiting so patiently. If the next chapter isn't up in a timely fashion I give you permission to form an angry mob and come after me.**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly.  
I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky.  
Make a wish, take a chance,  
Make a change, and break away.

~Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway

Chapter 15-Puzzle Pieces

In any other town a steady drizzle of moisture falling from the sky would mean resigning oneself to indoor activities like board games and movies. On a rainy day in Phoenix I would still be in my pajamas, curled up in bed with a good book or lounging on the couch watching reruns of Friends. Rain in Forks, however, was so constant and natural an occurrence that if the occupants of the little town were to hide in their homes at its appearance, nothing would ever get done. Armed with ponchos, rain boots and other various forms of watery protection, people could be found walking along the beaches at La Push, hiking in the woods…or in my case…sitting on a dock fishing.

Charlie Swan didn't miss his weekly fishing trips for anything. I could picture him calmly casting out his fishing line in the middle of a hurricane. When I'd agreed to come along with him, the weather forecast had detailed an overcast sky with a slight chance for showers in the late afternoon. Yet here I was at ten o'clock in the morning with a light but fervent sprinkling of water running down the strands of my hair and sliding onto my face to form droplets that raced each other to the tip of my nose and edge of my chin.

I desperately watched the bobbers dip up and down in the water, praying that if one of us could get one good bite, Charlie would be appeased and I could get out of the wet caress of Mother Nature.

"So…dad…just out of curiosity, exactly how long do we wait until we decide that the fish are MIA and call it a day?"

"I like to give it at least an hour," he answered conversationally, seemingly oblivious to the water clinging to his mustache and tracing its way through the lines around his mouth.

Though I attempted to stifle the whine of protest that bubbled up in my throat, Charlie heard it and gave a chuckle. "Patience has never been one of your strong suits, Bells."

"To be honest, dad, I don't think I have any strong suits these days," I admitted, giving the fishing rod a little tug.

"That's nonsense. You're smart Bells, and you've always been real good at listening and observing the situations around you. You've got plenty of strengths." My father's voice had taken on that undertone of hesitation which always occurred when he was trying to compliment or advise me. It was sort of sweet to see his normally gruff and controlled exterior crack ever so slightly and show his nerves.

"I think I'm just feeling like a loser because I don't know what I want to do with my life. What good is a person with no sense of purpose?"

There was silence for a few minutes as Charlie carefully chewed over his response. "Well I'm just an old man Bella, but here's what I think. Purpose is a relative term. You know how many people make a living but don't feel like they've found their purpose? I don't think it's something you just wake up with one day. Purpose is a sort of process…like putting together a puzzle. You just need to find some pieces that you think fit you, and start putting them together. If after a while you don't like the picture that's forming…you get rid of those pieces and try some other ones."

The rain had slowed and thinned down to a misty state that clung to my father's face and showed his age in a way that made him look solemn and wise. It occurred to me that I should have taken the time to ask him for advice when I was younger. Instead I'd spent the majority of my youth selling him short. I suddenly felt very bad about the mental picture I'd formed in my head of Charlie Swan.

"I love you Dad," I said softly, scooting closer to him along the faded wood of the dock and leaning my head on his shoulder. He tilted his head down and placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head before returning focus to his fishing rod, which had teased him with some movement but had turned out to be a false alarm.

I finally got used to the silence, found a little comfort in watching the water ripple and move like it was a living organism in itself. When Charlie suddenly spoke again, I jumped a little, surprised back to reality.

"So Bells, found any new puzzle pieces lately that you've forgotten to tell your old man about?"

My brow furrowed in confusion. "No, I don't think so."

Charlie turned and gave me a knowing smirk, an expression I had never before seen on his face. "You sure about that? Haven't made any new friends lately?"

Heat started to creep up my cheeks as I began to get an inkling of what my father was talking about. "I never took you for a gossip monger, Sheriff."

"Ain't gossip if it's true sweetie. So you're seeing that trainer at the gym…Edward, I think his name is?"

At this point I was wishing that not only would a fish take a nip at my line, but that it would pull me down into the water with it so that I could avoid this conversation.

"We've been on a few dates…if you must know," I replied reluctantly.

He nodded his head slowly, and I was hoping that would be the end of the discussion. Which was a silly hope because honestly…what father would leave a conversation at that?

"So when do I get to meet him?"

I blanched and nearly dropped my fishing rod into the lake. "Geeze Dad, um…I don't know. You're the Sheriff, don't you already know everyone?"

"There's a difference in the way you know someone in your town, and the way you know someone whose dating your daughter," was his gruff response.

"Ugh…okay fine, I get the hint. Just…give me some time to get used to the fact that I'm in a situation where I have to introduce anyone to you."

Charlie finally seemed temporarily placated, and he dropped the subject for the rest of the morning. We didn't catch a single fish, and I cursed the water dwelling creatures as we left.

Something hitch-hiked a ride home inside my brain. A tiny question mark that was hiding below the surface just far enough that I knew it was there, but couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about. It left me feeling irritated and on edge for the rest of the day, distracted by the knowledge that sooner or later that question was going to make itself known, and I was going to have to think about how I was going to answer it.

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That moment occurred the next morning, when I was awoken at seven by the far too chipper sound of my mother's ringtone on my phone. With eyes firmly shut, I groped around the bedside table untill my fingers locked around the buzzing phone.

"Mmmhmmm?" I greeted in a customary "why the hell did you just wake me up?" fashion.

"Well good morning sleepy head. I was just thinking of you because I'm currently making your favorite breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes and cinnamon rolls."

My "unhappy to be awake" mind was not impressed with this information. "Well, you enjoy your tasty breakfast, mom."

Of course Renee didn't get the hint that I wasn't in the mood for a conversation at the moment. "I found a new recipe online for this chocolate cinnamon bread pudding. We have to try it when you get home! Speaking of which…do you have an idea of when you'll be coming home? The house is so quiet without you."

The real reason for the early morning wakeup call became apparent. I groaned and weighed the chances of me getting out of having this conversation. They seemed slim, so I decided I might as well just get it over with.

"Um…actually I've been thinking. See…I'm doing really good here mom. I've been going to the gym, and eating better…feeling better, really. I feel like I need to stay and ride this out."

"Oh."

It doesn't matter how old you are; when a parent drops a one-liner like "Oh", your stomach attempts to evacuate the premises because it knows hell is about to break loose.

"It's just I've got a nice pace going here and I don't want to risk breaking it."

My mother's voice took on that tone of doom. The one where the words themselves sound simpering sweet and harmless but there are little jagged undertones of hurt feelings that only you'll catch onto. "And coming home would interrupt your progress, because there aren't any gyms here…or grocery stores where you can buy fruits and vegetables?"

I bit my lip, feeling like I was a six year old in trouble, not a grown adult perfectly capable of making my own choices. "I know, but I'm worried that if I stopped what I'm doing here long enough to come home, I'd fall right back into my old habits and fail to pick things up in Phoenix. I'm not talking about staying forever….just….just until I really get my head together."

In the silence on the other end I could picture Renee, her head sadly tilted against the phone, one hand in her lap doing its nervous fluttering dance over the fabric of the couch. "I just don't understand why you can't just come home. You must be running low on cash, are you going to make poor Rose pay for everything?"

"Actually, I have a job interview this weekend for a family in need of a daytime nanny for their kids four days a week."

"So that's it…you just pick up and leave home and move across the country?"

"Aw mom, please don't make it sound like I plotted to do this just to upset you. I came here to make sure Dad was okay…it turned into something more than that. I feel like this is where I need to be right now."

My mother chose that moment to begin a heartbroken sniffle on the other end of the line. I winced and immediately felt like there were a million signs saying "Worlds crappiest daughter" pointing at me.

"Geez, mom, don't cry."

"This is about that boy isn't it! Your father texted me and said you'd met some boy over there."

I blinked in surprise at her sudden exclamation. "First of all…since when does Dad have a phone and actually know about things like texting? Secondly…when did you two decide to start gossiping about me behind my back instead of talking to me?"

"We are your parents…it's our job to talk about you. Does that mean it's true? Do you have a boyfriend? Why would you tell your father before me?"

I let my face fall down into my palm and contemplated screaming into my pillow. "I didn't tell Dad. I wasn't trying to tell anyone yet. Yes I met someone…we've been on a few dates, but I don't know what we are quite yet and I wasn't going to say anything until that changed."

"So you're staying in Forks for this boy then. This isn't about getting healthy at all."

The accusation in her tone made me angry. It was too early in the morning to be defending myself against my mother's third degree. "Can't it be about both, mom? I like a guy…and for the first time in my life that guy seems to really like me back. Yes that's incentive for me to want to stay. But there's more to it than that. I can't quite put it into words for you, and I'm sorry about that, but I am a grown woman. This is the decision I've made, and you don't have to like it, but you're going to have to accept it."

"Well fine then…excuse me for being a concerned parent. I'll just leave you to your super mature adult business then. Forgive me for interrupting."

Before I had a chance to try and respond, to bite down on my annoyance and try and reword my feelings in a less confrontational way, my mother did something she had never done to me before. She hung up the phone, leaving me feeling like a big pile of crap while the beep notifying me of the ended call echoed in my ear. I snapped my cell phone shut and threw it to the bottom of my bed in frustration. My mother had never snapped at me in such a way before, and I was not fond of the metaphorical black cloud it left floating over my head.

In that cloud…was the question that had been eluding me yesterday. How much of my presence here in Forks was about Edward? How much of it should be about Edward?

It was a question I couldn't even begin to answer. So I did with it what I did best with questions like that. I buried it in the furthest regions of my mind and endeavored to pretend it didn't exist.

They say that if something is out of sight then it's out of mind. Maybe if I pretended it was out of my mind, it would stay out of sight as well.

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"Roooooooooosalieeeeeeeeeeee!"

It would occur to me at a later date that perhaps Rose would not be exceedingly excited to be awoken at eight in the morning on a Sunday. She may, in fact, be even less ecstatic to be awoken by her roommate running into her room with shrill screams, while wearing only a pair of jeans and a bra. But in the moment, it seemed completely necessary.

Her blond hair fell into her eyes, which were regarding me with a semi-conscious rage as she propped herself up in her bed and regarded my half naked prancing form.

"Whatthehell?" she mumbled tiredly.

I was not moved by her weariness. No, I was a mass of excitement and would surely explode if I did not share my joy with Rosalie right this very second. "Rose! Do you see these jeans? Do you?"

She looked at me like I had six heads for a moment, and then cast a quick glance downwards. "Yes. I swear to god if you don't have a moderately relative point to make I am going to smack you silly with my pillow."

The smile stretching across my face was so big that it was almost hard to create discernable speech. "These are jeans I bought three months ago, and they were so snug I could just barely get them zippered. But you made me buy them, remember, because I'd been wearing nothing but gray and black full of holes sweatpants for weeks."

"No I don't remember. But that's probably because my brain is too busy being pissed that you woke it up at this godforsaken hour of the morning."

My cheerful mode was not deterred. "Rose! I can now take these jeans off without unbuttoning them! Watch!"

Completely oblivious to the fact that I was being absurd on numerous levels, I proceeded to shimmy my jeans off and proudly display them to Rose. For a moment she was so still that I wondered if she'd fallen back asleep with her eyes open. Then she blinked, took a breath, and gave me a smile. "While I understand your enthusiasm here Bella, and do share it to a certain extent, I must request that in the future you repress your need to strip in front of me at the buttcrack of dawn. I'm going back to sleep now. I'm sure I'll have much more excitement to give you after two more hours of sleep and a cup of coffee."

"Buzz kill," I muttered, waltzing out of the room with my jeans slung over my shoulder. I should have had more sympathy for her; after all it was rather strange that I was up this early, I could thank Renee for that. In order to ignore the residual emotions of my phone conversation with her, I'd eaten an early breakfast instead of wasting my time with the futile attempt of trying to go back to sleep. Unless we're talking like 1am and I've woken up because I need to pee, I don't fall back asleep once I'm awake. After breakfast I'd taken on the lengthy task of trying to figure out what I was going to wear.

Edward had sweet talked me into agreeing to a late morning hike, and I had no clue as to what kind of attire I should be shooting for. Obviously one didn't wear miniskirts and high heels for outings amid the bushes and treacherous roots. At the same time I didn't like to wear the clothes I wore to the gym when I was with Edward in outside-of-the-gym settings. Then the only mental pictures he'd ever have of me would be in sweatpants and printed tees and he'd probably start to think that I didn't have any other types of clothing. Also he was coming to get me at ten, at which point the weatherman had said it was going to be chilly, but at the same time the minute I exert more energy that it takes to walk from, let's say, the couch to the kitchen, I start sweating like a pig. This is not an exaggeration. I swear I put out more sweat in five minutes of a brisk walk on the treadmill than a marathon runner does after an hour.

Eventually I ended up opting to wear my "triumph jeans" as I had dubbed them, a red tank top, and a loose fitting, lightweight blue sweater jacket. Rose awoke a mere 20 minutes before Edward arrived, but in a much better mood, congratulating me warmly on my apparent weight loss and loose jeans. We made small talk as she drank her coffee until I heard a beep from outside and nearly knocked my chair over in my excitement.

Walking down the front steps to the car should not make me feel nervous butterflies beating against the insides of my stomach. But I can feel Edward's eyes on me, and that always fills me with a cocktail of giddiness and self consciousness. After opening the car door, I'm so mesmerized by how handsome he looks that it takes me a moment to remember that I need to get into the car. His green sweater makes every bronze and copper highlight in his hair seem ten times more vibrant than usual and the smile on his face is like pure adrenaline being fed into my veins.

_Yep…one on one time with that smile is so worth all the tree roots I'm going to trip over._

"How are you this morning?" he asked, the words caressing my skin like sunlight.

"Really good," I answered, a proud smile pouring across my face. "These jeans I'm wearing right now used to be really snug…and now I can take them off without un-zippering them."

As the words left my mouth, I realized that such information took on a different undertone when I was talking to Edward and not Rosalie.

_Note to self…don't talk about removing clothing…in any context…in front of Edward._

The hot blush spread across my face and I looked away as the car started backing out of the driveway. "I just meant that…um…loose jeans means I lost inches and I'm just excited."

"You should be excited. Its proof of how hard you've been working, and how much progress you've made. I'm really proud of you, Bella."

My heart was now doing a cancan of joy on top of my lungs. I felt like I was on top of the world. Nothing could bring me down.

Except tree roots.

Thirty minutes later those were bringing me down at a pretty steady rate.

Edward was baffled by my extreme show of klutziness. He would see a possible root of doom…point it out to me…and then somehow I'd still end up getting tripped by it. It was like I was magnetically drawn to any path that would lead to a head-first close encounter with the ground. I'm pretty sure he was starting to think about carrying me, for fear that I'd have a concussion by the time we were done our hike.

I wouldn't have let him carry me though…even if I'd had a concussion. I'm not sure he could have carried me if he wanted. Even if he'd been physically capable, I wouldn't have wanted him to touch me because I was in 'pouring lakes of sweat' mode.

By the time he decided it would be wise for us to take a break, I was huffing and puffing like freight train, sweating from parts of my body I didn't know I could sweat from, and my hair was matted to my skin in unappealing disarray.

I was bringing sexy back…all the way back to the caveman era.

We sat down on a couple rocks nestled between two giant red cedar trees. I took greedy swigs from the water bottle Edward had given me at the beginning of our hike. He sipped quietly from his own bottle, observing me with curious eyes.

"What?" I asked, wondering if I had a piece of grass or something in my hair from one of my falls.

"I'm just admiring you," he replied with the crooked grin that washed over me with the power of hurricane winds.

"Right…I'm half dead and swimming in sweat. I can see what's there to admire."

"I happen to be admiring your perseverance. You've fallen half a dozen times, you look exhausted, and yet you haven't complained once. Actually…I don't think you've ever complained about anything I've asked you to do…in the gym or outside of it."

I snorted and shook my head. "Yeah well you're gonna have to start letting me know whether these requests are coming from Edward my trainer, or Edward my boyfriend."

_Oh holy god of brain/mouth filters, why have you forsaken me?_

I had not meant to say the "B" word. I imagine that no one wants to be the first person that utters one of those titles that takes the relationship to another level. No one wants to sit there wanting to punch themselves in the face because they're terrified the other person doesn't want to go to that place of social labels and expectations.

"Well in this case I'd say my motives were a little bit of both. It's good to take the healthy routine out of the gym sometimes. It's also appealing to take your girlfriend on a hike in the woods where there aren't a whole lot of other people around and you could easily steal a kiss or two if she was so inclined."

It was like Edward had a mind-reading ability. He always seemed to sense when I was feeling anxious or self conscious, and he would respond with words that made me feel like a super-model, or made me too distracted by my wildly beating heart to acknowledge any fears or doubts. Even though I was sweaty and disgusting, when Edward's lips fervently danced across my own, I felt beautiful. The trees around us were green and lovely, but the only green that mattered was his eyes and the look in them right before he'd kiss me. Birds chirped beautiful choruses and a nearby brook babbled soothingly, but the only sounds that mattered came from the duet of our staggered breathing as he held me close and kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world. Fingers tangled in his hair, I breathed him in, soaked him up like he was the sun.

I found myself thinking about the comment my father had made about puzzle pieces. Edward was that piece you found halfway through your puzzle-completing process. That piece that makes the picture finally start to make sense in your eyes, that piece that allows all of the other pieces to find their places easier.

Maybe my mother had been right too. Perhaps my elongated stay in Forks was more about him than about myself. Then again, maybe it was because I was finding my new self with him, through him.

Either way, I wasn't complaining.


	16. Lock and Key

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**

******(AN)-If any of you get double updates, I apologize. Apparently is glitching and a lot of people couldn't access this chapter, so I'm attempting to repost.**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

But if I look to my right, will I see the one I fight for

If I look to my right  
Or if I turn to my left, will I see that I have kept my heart  
Locked up, locked up so tight

~Ingrid Michealson, Locked Up

Chapter 16-Lock and Key

"You're not seriously going to make me sit through this are you?"

With a heart as cold as stone, I regarded Rosalie's pleading eyes with not the tiniest inkling of pity. "No, of course I won't make you sit through it. You can get up at any time." I turned up the volume on the television to further my point.

I had never met anyone who hated The _Wizard of Oz_. It was a childhood classic after all. Rosalie's burning disdain for the film had always served as an enigma to my poor brain, especially since she could never verbalize the reason for her hatred. The most I'd ever gotten out of her was that the flying monkeys were stupid and the Scarecrow was annoying.

Hardly a convincing debate in my opinion.

Normally I was extremely sensitive to the not so nice effect that Dorothy and Toto's adventures had on Rose. This time, however, she'd brought the torture upon herself. Why she thought she'd get away with forcing me to sit through a marathon of _Say Yes to the Dress_ last night without retribution is beyond me.

So it was with absolutely no guilt at all that I returned my attention to the screen, enjoying the scene where Dorothy and the Scarecrow get apples hurled at them by an angry apple tree. Eventually Rosalie could take no more, and she slinked away to her room, muttering threats of retribution all the way. The smug satisfaction of victory left a huge smile on my face.

Just as Dorothy was about to nail the Wicked Witch with a bucket of water, my phone buzzed. I was elated to find myself looking at a message from Edward inviting me to his house tomorrow evening. Well…elated and then mildly terrified at the same time. Over the past month and a half Edward and I had seen a lot of each other…but this was the first time I'd been invited to his home for a date. Though I was probably over-reacting, being in Edward's home felt like it was an implication of an expectation….if you know what I mean.

Don't get me wrong, my confidence was as high as it had ever been. Edward had finally allowed me to get on the scale at the gym, and I'd found that I'd lost a total of 15 pounds since the beginning of my training. I looked in the mirror and began to see changes within myself, particularly in my face. Unfortunately my nerves were still uncontrollably unpredictable around Edward. We'd be in the middle of a makeout session that was so hot I wouldn't have been surprised if it gave me a tan, and suddenly something in the way he'd touch me or move against me would send me skittering away faster than a hooker who spotted the popo down the street.

Edward was so understanding…honestly, he was too understanding. With girls like Jessica pretty much walking around with a sign around their neck reading "My Vagina is Hungry for your Penis", how long could I expect him to wait around for me to be comfortable going past second base?

It wasn't like I didn't have the desire. By the time I reached the end of a date with Edward, my body was tingling and my heart was begging me to let him in.

_Pun intended._

The problem was that however much my weight loss had progressed over the past weeks; I still didn't feel very comfortable in my skin. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the idea of Edward putting his hands on my skin and feeling the stretchmarks that left little cavernous trails all over my skin. How could he possibly stand to map out the scars of my obsession with food? How could I ever find the willpower to let him truly see all those parts of myself that made me feel ugly and ashamed?

More importantly…how the hell did I figure out what to do if I did find the willpower to let things get more intimate between us? Inexperience probably wasn't an attractive trait in a girl of my age these days. I didn't want to slobber all over the poor man like a lovesick puppy, or do something wrong and turn him off.

I needed some advice.

Which meant I needed Rose.

The Rose who I'd just tortured with Judy Garland for the past hour and a half.

Did I mention I'd sung along to 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road' in a horribly off-key falsetto?

Guess I'd picked the wrong day to exact my revenge.

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_Note to self for future reference…asking Rosalie Hale for advice about anything remotely sexual WILL lead to embarrassing situations that make you wish you could throw yourself into a black hole._

What I'd been aiming for when I went into Rosalie's room were a few tips on how to give a good blowjob, or handjob, or any other sort of 'job' that the average male was expecting to receive nowadays. Maybe some advice on what to expect from him and what he may be expecting from me.

Rose went a little above and beyond the call of duty.

And _not_ in a good way.

She proceeded to inform me that I was sexually repressed and that I was never going to be able be comfortably intimate with Edward until I embraced the idea of myself as a sexual creature and took control of that sexuality.

'_Oh Bella…I simply must know. How does one take control of their sexuality' you ask?_

Apparently Rose thought the most beneficial course of action was to talk me into the car and bring me to a sex shop in Port Angeles.

For anyone else out there under the misapprehension that the 'throw them in the deep end of the pool and they'll learn to swim' is applicable to a scenario such as this, let me inform you that you are terribly mistaken. A girl who has only just figured out what to do with her nose while making out with her boyfriend is going to be rather overwhelmed and disturbed to suddenly find herself standing in front of a shop called Le Chateau Exotique.

I attempted a terrified sprint back in the direction of the car, but Rose made a swift move to intercept my getaway. "Bella…relax. Nothing in this store is going to bite you, I promise. If you don't want to buy anything you don't have to. Just come inside and take a look around. For all you know you may see something you like."

She gave a proud smile when I tentatively stepped forward. For the record though, I only went in because it felt like standing outside a sex shop all alone would be even more awkward than going inside.

_Kink and bondage and anal beads…oh my._

_Toto we aren't in Kansas anymore._

I saw things that I could never un-see.

Did you know that they make corsets for men? You do now. Ever heard of an anal hook? The "oh so helpful" sales associate told me all about the function of that device. When Rose pulled me away I thought we were leaving and I was saved, but swiftly realized she was taking me to another end of the store. The shelves were stocked with dildos and vibrators of every size and color, packaged in pretty colored boxes and stamped with pictures of half dressed woman presumably in the throes of ecstasy or something.

"Now I'm no expert," Rose was saying, "but I'm thinking a simple little bullet would be the best thing for you to start off with."

I blinked at her in confusion. "Rose…what the hell are you talking about?"

"Bella my dear, today you are getting your first vibrator. I mean…it's kind of an atrocity to womanhood that you've gone all these years without one. It'll be the first step towards you owning that sexy little hellcat that I know is inside of you."

I stared at her in horror…my mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a few seconds. "Th…they look so complicated. Do they come with directions?"

Rosalie had the grace to try and swallow the snicker that tried to fly from her mouth. She held up a box as an example. "Bullets are really simple. This one is attached to a little remote. You push this button here and it changes how fast the vibrator pulses. You turn it on…then move it around on your lady bits until it starts to feel good. This is about you getting comfortable with your own body and exploring what gets your motor running, so to speak."

I took the box from her hands, looking the packaging over for myself. "No Rose, it says right here. Apparently my motor will be run by three double A batteries. And they're not included."

My attempt at humor received an eye roll. "Seriously, Bella, it's only twenty bucks. I really think it'll do you a world of good to get it."

I eyed the box indecisively, weighing my options. Twenty bucks was a cheap price if this thing turned out to be as revolutionary for my psyche as Rose thought it would be. If it turned out not to be so awesome, well, I'd spent twenty bucks on worse things.

Flushed cheeks accompanied me and my freshly bagged purchase back to the car. Rosalie was practically strutting with joy. She kept eyeing me and pretending to wipe away tears while muttering "My sweet Bella is all grown up."

If that weren't embarrassing enough, she proceeded to drop me off at the house and inform me with a complete lack of subtlety that she had "errands" to run and wouldn't be back for a few hours. She even ended with a lascivious wink in my direction before driving off.

Sometimes friends make a cloudy day sunny again. Sometimes they make you want to move to a deserted island and become a hermit.

I threw the bag containing my new purchase onto my bed, and headed back into the kitchen to make some lunch. Rose couldn't possibly expect that "Go forth and prosper" attitude to work on me. I wasn't going to go to town and use the thing just because she'd told me to. Hell, I wasn't even that interested in it.

I didn't enjoy my tuna and salad with a moderate side of curiosity.

I definitely didn't feel a slight twinge of excitement while washing my dishes.

My steps as a crept down the hallway were not at all like the tiptoes of anticipation I'd display when creeping downstairs on Christmas morning as a child.

The way I bit my lip when I slid onto my bed, pulling the small, smooth device from its plastic and cardboard confines, was completely coincidental.

It really came with no directions. Was I supposed to put it "up in there" like it was a little plastic green tampon? Or just lay it against my lady bits and "wait for the magic to happen"?

I voted to attempt the latter. The batteries fit easily into the back of the palm sized control, and when I tentatively pressed the little silver button, the attachment that lay on the bed began a loud, rhythmic buzzing. I picked it up and the strong pulses tickled against my fingers.

I really didn't know how to progress. Was I supposed to woo myself by dimming the lights and putting on some Marvin Gaye music? Would it be better for my mood for me to be in my birthday suit, or should I just shove it down my pants and "Git-R-Done"? Again I picked what was behind door number two, opting to sprawl on my back and just fling the vibrator down towards my lady bits and hope that it would migrate south like a flock of geese.

At first I felt nothing beyond the general sensory processing of the tickling vibrations against my skin. Then I shifted, and there was jolt that raced up my spine in a disturbingly intense way. Part of it felt good, but at the same time it was _too_ much, and I cringed as if someone were running their nails down a chalkboard and yanked the offending device out of my pants by the plastic cord.

"That's enough of that," I muttered, glaring at the still buzzing contraption before grabbing the remote with my other hand. I hit the silver button, which resulted in nothing more than a change in the speed of the buzzing. Another tap to silver made it even faster.

_Shit…where is the off button? Is there an off button? Why the hell do these things not come with directions!_

Impatient and frustrated, I turned the controller over and made a hasty dash to remove the batteries, which immediately silenced the blasted buzzing. With a sigh of defeat, I buried it in my sock drawer, adamant that I was never going to unearth it again.

This was hopeless. What could Edward possibly want with an inexperienced prude like me? I was not getting anywhere. Maybe this intimacy thing was like a band-aid. It would be better if I just psyched myself up for it and got it over with quickly. Maybe I was never going to feel comfortable with any of it until I just got it done.

I was suddenly convinced that I didn't want to wait till tomorrow night to see Edward. Hastily I sent him a text asking if I could come over. Five minutes passed with me nervously willing my phone to glow with a message, and I let out my breath with a whoosh when I opened the message to see a "Yes".

The drive to his place was an anxious blur. When I arrived, I barely noticed what the outside of his place looked like, focusing my eyes on barreling my way towards the light brown front door of his small rancher. My knock was confident and even. I could do this…I _would_ do this.

Edward opened the door, looking heartbreakingly sexy in a green t-shirt, with his rusty hair tousled invitingly. He barely had time to open his mouth in greeting before I had pounced on him like a hungry lioness. I could feel the concern tensing his body, but as I wound my arms around his neck I felt it fade as his mouth moved against mine and his arms came around me possessively. I didn't want to think, didn't want to speak; didn't want to do anything that might break my fragile resolve. My hands were in his hair now and our ragged breathing tangled together in the air as he pushed me up against the wall and used his foot to shut the front door.

His mouth began moving down my neck, and I moaned as his lips created a rippling wave of electricity under my skin. I pulled at his hair, moving his head back up so that I could claim his lips with my own.

This was good, better than good. There was nothing to be afraid of. Emboldened by the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I kissed my way up to Edward's ear, my voice coming out with a breathy huskiness as I asked "Do you want to move this to the bedroom?"

I heard a sharp intake of breath, and Edward pulled away to look me in the eye. Panic started digging its way up my throat, because I couldn't read the look on his face.

It felt like there was a century of silence before he finally spoke. "Are you sure?"

My heart exploded with relief. "I'm sure," I whispered.

It was a lie and the truth all at once. I wanted to be sure, wanted to be confident, wanted to quell the feeling of dread that was beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach. I tried to ignore the nerves, and focused on the way his fingers felt as they intertwined with my own and he began to lead me towards the back corner of the house.

Edward's room was far too tidy. An empty kind of clean that told me he wasn't the kind of guy that really "lived" in his room; a harsh contrast to the controlled chaos that was my room back in Phoenix.

But this wasn't the time to reflect on the supreme cleanliness of my boyfriend's bedroom.

I made my way to Edward's bed and curled up into what I hoped was a mildly enticing position, and not something that made me look like I was having a seizure. My heart was hammering away at warp speed, and my mouth couldn't have formed words if I wanted to. The movement of the mattress as Edward sat down next to me, sent a flock of terrified birds flying around my stomach in a tizzy. Suddenly feeling shy and uncertain, I turned my head downwards and focused on the striped blues and grays that made up his bedcovers.

Gentle fingers hooked themselves underneath my chin, turning my face towards those soul-prying green eyes. "We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with." His voice was so beautifully sweet and sincere, and in that moment I wanted to be able to give him everything I was. A man like him deserved nothing less, deserved better than all my baggage and insecurity.

I didn't realize that I was crying, till he was leaning over and tenderly wiping at the watery drops preparing to dive down my cheeks. "Bella…it's okay."

Edward was wrong. It wasn't okay. It was all wrong. Wasn't it supposed to be easy when you found someone you cared about? Weren't you supposed to just fit together like a lock and key, nothing but love and desire paving your way? What the hell was wrong with me?

"I'm s…sorry," I blubbered tearfully before attempting to scramble off the bed.

"Don't go," he replied, grabbing me by the arm and trying to pull me back towards him. "I can't let you leave when you're so upset."

I shook my head and tried to pull away. "This is my problem Edward…you shouldn't have to suffer through my baggage."

Edward face was a mixture of compassion and frustration. "Bella no one's free of baggage. And when you care about someone…their baggage becomes yours too, and you try and carry it together. If I let you leave right now…it'll be like I'm supporting this idea you've got that you've done something wrong here. I won't do that. Please stay. We'll watch some really god-awful Scifi movies and mock the horrible acting and costumes."

He was too sweet. I truly didn't deserve him. But I couldn't say no to that, so I nodded in consent and wiped at my eyes.

The remainder of the afternoon bled into the evening. We ate popcorn and mocked the pathetic acting and monster costumes in the SciFi movies. When the room got dark I snuggled against Edward, my head growing heavy against the crook of his neck, too tired and comfortable to even think about moving. He must have known I was falling asleep on him, but made no move to urge me home to my own bed. The tv sounds became a muted background to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his arm around me, fingers tracing soothing patterns along my back.

I vaguely remember the softness of his lips against my forehead before sleep pulled me into its waiting arms.


	17. Whisper Wars

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended**

******(AN) So not only am I updating in a timely fashion with this chapter...but I'm also giving you guys a nice, juicy long one. I hope that you find it's contents to your liking. And have I mentioned that you guys are absolutely amazing, and that your reviews put the sun in my sky and make my heart all sorts of squeezy-happy?**

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

* * *

Running the race  
Like a mouse in a cage  
Getting nowhere but I'm trying  
Forging ahead  
But I'm stuck in the bed  
That I made so I'm lying

But if you keep real close  
Yeah, you stay real close  
I will reach you

I'm down to a whisper  
In a daydream on a hill  
Shut down to a whisper  
Can you hear me still

~Whisper, A Fine Frenzy

**Chapter 17-Whisper Wars**

The dream was so vivid; colors crisp and clear, and surround sound nudging at my ears. I couldn't really see myself in it, but I knew that I was beautiful, confident, and everything else I had ever wanted to be. I didn't shy away when Edward touched me, I revealed in it. There was no fear or insecurities in my static breathing, only desire. When he whispered sweet nothings huskily in my ear, I smiled, because there was no reason to doubt or second guess him.

I never wanted to wake up.

But of course I did, with a protesting yawn and a stretch that hoped to reach back out and grab the retreating tendrils of slumber.

Sleep was most definitely lost to me when I suddenly found gravity smacking me down like a fighter in a wrestling ring. Something blunt made a brutal acquaintance with the side of my head, and my face met with the coarse sensation of carpet, a muffled "Ooof" barely managing to escape from my mouth. I managed to drag myself to a semi-seated position on the carpet, and glared dolefully at the coffee table which was the source of the pounding pain in my right temple. I made a note to tell Edward that he should never let me fall asleep on his couch again. Couches and coffee tables were now right next to tree roots on the list of things that were hazardous for my health.

As I pulled myself to a stand, I realized that the evil coffee table had a note for me. Edward's handwriting was the perfect mixture of elegant cursive and hastily scribbled messiness, telling me that he hadn't wanted to wake me but had needed to head into work. He invited me to make myself at home, and that if I needed to go he'd left me a copy of his house key in the kitchen so that I could lock up.

Of course I'd get the key to my boyfriend's place in such an unconventional manner, after making a complete and utter fool out of myself and probably leaving a drool stain on his couch.

The night hadn't been all bad though. What had happened (or more accurately NOT happened) in the bedroom, was left behind us as we relocated to the living room. We'd talked through all the bad monster movies, and the whole time he'd held me against his chest, smoothing my hair and touching me like I was something precious. I smiled when I saw I realized he'd written the note using the glittery blue gel pen I'd pulled out of my purse the previous night. He'd smiled when I told him that it was my lucky pen. Back when I met Rosalie, gel pens were the coolest thing in kid history. We'd get in trouble in school for drawing on our hands during free time, for sending notes back and forth scribbled in sparkly pinks and neon greens. Usually teachers were extremely strict in enforcing the rule that papers couldn't be turned in unless they were plain black or blue ink. But one day, I'd scrambled to finish a history report at the last minute, and had written the last page in my blue gel pen because I'd lost all my normal pens. I'd awaited my grade in terror for days, having never been able to get higher than a C- on any of the other assignments for that class. Much to my surprise, the teacher had given me an A. After that moment I'd treasured that silly blue pen, and had used it sparingly.

One of the things I liked most about Edward was that when I told him silly stories like this he didn't give me the look that other people did. That "Omg you're such a weirdo, but at least you're not the kind that would slit my throat while I was sleeping or something" kind of look. No, when I told Edward quirky little stories like that he'd listen like I was the most fascinating thing in the universe and give me a a quirky story about himself in return. Like how all through high school he refused to actually eat french fries, instead opting to go through his serving and lick all of the salt off. Things like that made it so easy to talk to him, to let him see into my heart.

_So why am I having such a panic attack over the whole intimacy thing? _

I shook the thought from my mind. It was too early in the morning to go there, as the clock in the kitchen blinked an overly cheery 8.30am. I had no new clothes to change into, so a shower was out of the question, but my face felt puffy from the mixture of crying and sleeping on the couch arm, so I found my way to Edward's bathroom. I turned the light on, eyes still half closed with displeasure at the fact that I was awake. Turning the faucet on, I let out a sleepy yawn and went to dip my hands into the stream of water. Something on my right hand caught my attention, and I jerked it closer for inspection.

It had been written on in blue gel pen. The letters were backwards, but I could clearly see they spelled "ARE". An inspection of my left hand found another backwards inscription, this time spelling "YOU".

"_Are you" what? "You Are" what?_

It was then that I looked up into the mirror above the sink and saw that there were letters on my forehead as well. Hands shaking with an indescribable emotion that was squeezing around my heart, I lifted my hands up, palms facing forward.

"YOU" said my left hand, and "ARE" said my right.

"Beautiful," I whispered tearfully as I read the word on my forehead.

It was obvious who had written those words, and it was also obvious why he had done it.

Two things immediately became very clear to me.

1) Edward Masen was quite possibly the most beautifully sweet man on the history of the planet.

2) I needed to get my head together so that I could have lots and lots of insecurity free sex with him.

How I went about fulfilling the requirements for number two was, of course, a complete mystery.

It hadn't taken long before I started feeling awkward being in Edward's house when he wasn't there. My brain was a jumble of too many thoughts and emotions, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to start getting my thoughts together until I got myself a shower and a fresh pair of clothes. So I took his key and locked up, heading home with slept-in wrinkly clothes, and finger brushed hair.

Could someone be on "a walk of shame" if they hadn't gotten any?

When I got home and shot the door behind me, I could hear Rose in the kitchen. In full "join me in my pity party" mood, I stalked towards the kitchen. "So Rosalie, remember how you were all adamant that a vibrator would totally loosen up my sexual repression? Well you wer…"

I actually made it into the kitchen, only to be slapped in the face with the sight of Emmett making eggs.

My soul may have shriveled up just a tad in the shadow of my immense embarrassment.

At least he had clothes on.

He smiled at me warmly, waving the spatula in greeting as if we were in the middle of a perfectly normal scenario.

"Wh…where's Rose?" I asked.

"In the shower. You want some eggs? There's plenty here."

"Um…no thank you. I think I'll just retreat to my room where I plan to die a slow and painful death."

Emmett rolled his eyes at me as he tended to his cooking. "Relax Bella, it's not that big a deal. You're a sexual creature…I'm a sexual creature. It's all kosher."

_Oh god please strike me dead with lightning or holy fire or something._

But I was kind of hungry…and those eggs smelled really good…so maybe the death by heavenly wrath could wait till after a plate of eggs.

Emmett gave me a cocky smile when I approached with a hungry "please sir, may I have some more?" look on my face. "S'what I thought," he proclaimed smugly, grabbing a plate from the cabinet and plopping a healthy serving of fluffy golden deliciousness upon it. "You know…despite my hefty male appendage, I'm actually very good at advising people in the intimacy department. Come…step into my office." He thrust my plate into my hands and pushed me towards the dining room.

I think I was in shock from his blatant approach, because I just sat down and stared as he took a seat adjacent to me, folding his arms to make a support for his chin and looking at me with an expectant face.

"Um…Emmett. I'm not really sure I wanna talk to you about this stuff."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Why not? I'm a guy…Edward's a guy…I can give you some perspective from a male point of view."

I raised a forkful of eggs to my mouth. "It's not really his view that's the problem. It's the messed up perspective in my own head."

"Don't you girls learn about this stuff through your cheesy romance novels?" Emmett made a funny face and took on a mockingly feminine tone. "_Steven stuffed Sally with his sensuous sausage_."

I choked on my eggs, wildly flailing my arms as I tried to force my food to not make a beeline for my lungs instead of my stomach. "Oh my god, Emmett. Are you trying to kill me?" I wheezed.

"Well jeeze, if you want the delicate flower approach…maybe you should go talk to my mom."

I rolled my eyes, getting up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. "Oh sure…why don't I just have a big open meeting and talk about my personal sexual issues with your whole family? That'll be fun."

"Oh…my mom didn't tell you what she does for a living, did she?"

"No she didn't. I'm afraid to ask why that's relevant to this already awkward conversation, but I'm going to do it anyway."

Emmett leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. "My mother's a licensed therapist. That works from home. You've been sitting across from a person whose job it is to help people sort through the jumbled mess of their minds for months."

_Well…if that ain't a sign from the universe, I don't know what is._

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Later that morning, when I'd convinced myself it wasn't too early, I tiptoed my way to the front door of the Cullen's house, and timidly knocked on the door. Esme opened the door, hair and face like a silver screen actress from the 50's, and a softness about her features that made me want to hug her as if she were my own mother and not practically a stranger.

"Bella," she said in a warm honey tone, "how are you? I ran into your father the other day at the store, he's looking so wonderful."

"Yeah," I said with a smile, "he says he feels healthier now than he ever has. I'm sure the diner is missing his business though."

An awkward silence took over, because I wasn't sure how to move the conversation. I didn't think something like "Hey Mrs. Cullen, I know we don't really know each other, but I was wondering if you could help me get over my intimacy issues so that I can make the beast with two backs with your son's best friend" was going to come across very well.

"Is there something I can help you with dear?" she asked, after a few moments of silence passed between us.

"Well…um…Emmett was telling me that you're a therapist…and I'm sure I'm not doing this the right way…but…I was wondering…if I could make an appointment?"

Esme smiled and ushered me through the door. "Come in sweetheart."

I'm usually not a nervous talker. But as Esme lead me through the house towards her office, I couldn't seem to shut up. "So I don't know how much you charge, or if you charge by the minute or the hour…and I don't really have that much money right now, I mean I started a job at the Newtown's hiking gear store, but I've only got like two paychecks for that, but I can totally pay you as much as I can right now."

"Oh there's no need for any of that," Esme responded, as she opened the door to a homey office, "let's just say that one free session is a perk you get from renting the guest house."

"A…are you sure?"

"Positively." Esme gestured to a corner of the room where two comfy looking armchairs faced each other in an intimate fashion, not like other therapist office settings I'd seen on tv where a cold desk acted as a wall between the professional and client.

I made myself as comfortable as possible, given my nerves regarding the subject matter of which I wanted to speak. I fiddled nervously while Esme closed the door and seated herself. "So, Bella, what do you want to talk about?"

"Oh gosh.' I hoped I wasn't blushing. "Um, I guess I'm gonna start kind of slow and work my way up to my point…if that's okay with you?"

"However you'd like to proceed. The floor is yours, so to speak."

I took a breath. "Okay, well since the gossip has reached Chief Swan's ears I'm sure it's reached yours too, and you've heard that I'm seeing Edward in a non-professional manner."

"I had heard a few birdies tweeting about it, yes."

My fiddling increased tenfold. "Well, we've been seeing each other for a while now…and I'm finding it hard to allow the intimacy in our relationship grow…the way that I want it too."

Esme looked at me thoughtfully for a minute. "And is there a certain aspect of intimacy that you're particularly uncomfortable with?"

"Um…the thought of being seen without my clothes on…the thought of being touched without my clothes on, makes me very uncomfortable."

"And would you say that this discomfort stems from insecurities regarding your body?"

A dark chuckle rose from deep in my throat. "Well I mean look at me. I think the answer to that question is pretty obvious."

Esme nodded and leaned towards me a little in her seat. "And if these scenarios you're uncomfortable about were to happen…being seen and touched without the barrier of clothing to hide behind…is there a response that you fear will occur?"

I knew the answer…but I had to force it to come out. "Rejection. I'm…afraid that he'd reject me. All my life so many things; media, health gurus, other people, have made me feel like this extra weight I'm carrying around is comparable to walking around with bags of trash tied to me. It's disgusting, shameful, makes me feel less-than everyone else. If I want to subject myself to that mess, no one can stop me…but it's wrong of me to subject other people to it. Being intimate feels like I'd be subjecting that other person to the garbage that I carry around with me, and I can't imagine how anyone could see me, or touch me, and not be…disgusted"

Towards the end of my lengthy rant, my words had begun to grow thick with tears. Esme offered me a few tissues from a soothingly colored box, and patted my knee reassuringly. "It's a lot harder to say things like that out loud then just letting them be whispers in your head."

I nodded and blew my nose loudly. "It's just like that too. Whispers in my head…not in a creepy schizophrenic kind of way, you know? And I could try and blame it on advertising or models…but no matter where the whispers came from, they've grown into something that's taken on its own life in my head…and I don't know how to stop it. How do you go to war with the whispers in your head? How do you make them stop so that you can let people in?"

Esme considered my question for a moment. "I think it has to start with an understanding that the words you hear in your head, those whispers, they don't speak for everybody else. You have to take the chance, the risk, in letting people speak for themselves. Deciding what people think about you is a way for you to hide, to protect yourself. But let me ask you this. Do you think that Edward is less aware of your size when you have your clothes on?"

I sniffled and grabbed another tissue. "Well I mean…sometimes I like to tell myself that clothes hide my size, but I don't think that's really true."

"And when you've been with Edward, fully clothed, has he shown attraction towards you on an intimate level?"

"Yes, but I guess in my head…having an idea of what I may look like underneath my clothes…and actually seeing it…are two different things."

Esme nodded. "I think that's a completely logical fear. That's the morbid seduction of fear, it always makes so much sense, it so easily sucks you in. But in life, inaction because of a fear risks bringing about the same consequence you're afraid of incurring by facing your fear."

"That's my dilemma!" I exclaimed. "I feel like I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."

"And you're not alone in that feeling," Esme added. "So many people, men and women, large and small, face insecurities of all shapes and sizes regarding relationships. We all have fears that we won't be good enough for that other person. It's about finding someone who you think is worth the risk of opening up to. When they embrace you, it's the most wonderful feeling in the world. If they can't love who you are, for all that you are, that can be quite painful. But in the end you realize that person wasn't worthy of loving you anyway."

"Wow you're good," I replied, earning a sweet smile from her.

"Of course anything I tell you now may sound really good here in this room, but you can't expect your feelings and perspectives to just change overnight. It takes time to build up these viewpoints; therefore it has to take time to fully break them down and replace them with new ones. My advice to you is not to try and force yourself to go places you aren't ready to go yet. If a person cares about you, they'll be willing to wait for you. A moment will come…where despite any fears or reservations; you'll be ready to take a leap of faith. It has to come on its own."

"Is there anything I can do in the meantime…to help move things along? The 'wait and see approach' just feels like a cop-out to me."

"There are some activities you can do to help improve your self-esteem. Things like starting every morning by looking in a mirror and telling yourself three things about your physical features that you like, and then three about your personality that you like. Do it every morning, and then every night before bed. It'll seem trivial and awkward at first, but it can make a huge difference over time."

"Like if you tell yourself something long enough you start to believe it?"

"In a way, yes. It's very easy, you see, to try and make self improvement changes in order to try and please others. Little activities like the ones I described are a chance for you to face your own reflection and be reminded that this should be about you, about improving your relationship with yourself."

I gave a melancholy smile. "Rose has always told me I'm too much of a people pleaser. I guess I often don't see myself as someone worthy of pleasing."

Esme half pointed her index finger towards me in an affirming fashion. "And that's the crux of everything, isn't it? You have to find the worth in yourself, because if you can't see it, how can you be convinced that anyone else does?"

I sighed and leaned back in my seat. "You sure there isn't some kind of short cut "easy button" I can push? You know like the ones they used to use in those _Staples_ commercials?"

"Afraid not," Esme replied with a small smile. "Everything that makes the human mind so beautifully wonderful also makes it painfully mysterious and complex."

"Yeah. I guess I'm going to have to wait until I die to file a product complaint with the manufacturer."

We both laughed at my cynicism, and eased our way out of the conversation with some light talk about my hobbies and interests. When I stood to leave, Esme hugged me warmly and told me that if I ever needed to talk, I was welcome in her office and home, free of charge. The raw compassion that just oozed from her pores was almost too much to bear. On the one hand, it had felt freeing to talk with someone in such an open way. I hadn't even realized how deeply I thought some of the things I said until they had bled forth from my mouth. Which is why on the other hand, I walked back to the guest house feeling a little raw and mentally exhausted. It was as if now that I'd said all my thoughts out loud I was responsible for them in a way I somehow hadn't been when they were just whispers in my head.

I spent a good portion of the rest of the day lying in my bed and thinking.

_What kind of weapons does one bring to a whisper war?_

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Over the next two weeks I tried to take Esme's advice to heart. Every morning and every night found me facing myself in the mirror, telling my reflection what I liked about it, trying to take the time to not just say the words, but to feel even a tiny smidgeon of truth behind them.

Strangely enough, I did begin to feel a tiny bit more confident in my days.

Which made it all the more awkward that I was sort of avoiding Edward. I made it to all of my work outs with him, and conversed with him normally, but I found myself dodging his attempts to see me outside of the gym. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him, but I felt that I needed to say something to him about what he'd written on me that morning after I'd broken down at his house. Something as sweet and kind as that deserved to be addressed, but I needed time to collect my thoughts and decide how big of a conversation I wanted to have with him about it. After two weeks of thinking it over and having mock conversations in my head, I finally felt like I was capable of seeing him without becoming an embarrassed mess.

So he invited me over for dinner on a Friday night.

There is something incredibly sexy about a man who knows his way around the kitchen.

Like we're talking a "let's eat our meal in between bouts of hot kitchen make out sessions" kind of alluring.

I think Rosalie suffered a small stroke of shock when I actually asked her if she'd come shopping with me for an outfit. My actively initiating a shopping session was probably written down in history as one of the signs of the coming apocalypse. She was almost speechless when I walked out of the store with a pair of dark, fitted denim jeans, and a silky red top with an empire waist and fluttery sleeves. It felt kind of freeing to be able to say I was stepping out of my comfort zone and surprising someone.

When Edward opened his front door, I felt underdressed, as I always did around his stunning good looks. He was only in a pair of jeans and grey t-shirt, but still. The man could wear one of those floral print Hawaiian shirts and a pair of ripped shorts, and you'd feel like you needed full formal wear in the wake of his handsomeness.

"Hey beautiful," he said, greeting me with a warm embrace and a chaste kiss. "You have perfect timing. I just finished dinner."

"I can't lie Edward, I'm sort of excited to see what kind of culinary masterpiece you whipped up. People who can cook without burning everything are absolutely mind boggling to my poor cooking disabled brain."

He led me into the dining room, where my nose was assaulted with a myriad of tempting scents. Lemon-basil chicken on a bed of broccoli and cauliflower awaited me upon a plate. Food I would have scoffed at months ago and called disgusting, I was now practically drooling over.

Light chit chat punctuated our meal, the atmosphere calm and easy. When I'd cleaned my plate and sat back in satisfaction, Edward shot me a coy grin. "I hope you've saved room for dessert."

He disappeared into the kitchen, and what he returned with left me blinking in confusion.

"Edward….are those…tiny little cheesecakes in muffin tins? Because I smell cheesecake…and this better not be some sort of test because if you put cheesecake in front of me, I will eat it."

Edward laughed, husky and amused. "They are cheesecakes yes, but this isn't a trick. They're made with ricotta, reduced fat cream cheese and cocoa powder. Only 130 calories in one tin."

My eyes were wide with wonder as he placed a tin in my hand. "Oh dear sweet baby cheesecake, you are one of the most beautiful things my eyes have ever seen."

I carefully peeled the tin away, and closed my eyes to take a bite. It wasn't quite the same as the high fat cheesecakes I'd had before, but it was equally tasty, and I couldn't help the satisfied whimpers that escaped from me in between my slow bites and extended chewing periods.

I savored that cheesecake like it was the last one I'd ever eat.

When I finished that last delicious bite, I looked at Edward, and the entire speech I'd practiced in my head, thanking him for how wonderful and understanding he'd been, disappeared. It suddenly felt like no words could convey my meaning enough.

The man had made me cheesecake, held me while I let my emotional baggage make mince meat out of me, and was currently looking at me like I was beautiful and sexy and desirable.

_Because I am._

All this time I'd been driving myself crazy, tiptoeing around him afraid that he'd turn tail and run, when everything that came out of his mouth and everything he did demonstrated the exact opposite. He knew who I was…he knew my flaws and my strengths, my quirks and my sorrows, and he'd been standing here all this time telling me that he wanted me in spite of them, because of them. It was time I stopped hiding, and second guessing. Was it possible that things between Edward and I could end in a less than amicable way? Absolutely.

But Edward was worth the risk, and so was _I_.

Wordlessly I pushed my chair out and stood up, tossing a look at him before heading down the hallway towards his bedroom. My heart was pounding against my ribcage like a battering ram.

It would be a lie to say that the fearful whispers I'd been listening to for years were gone. But for once in my life I decided to be louder than them.

I deserved heavy kisses, ragged breathing, and skin to skin contact as much as anyone else.

_I am not garbage._

_I am not ugly._

_I am everything that I am, and that's good enough._

_I am worthy of loving and being loved in return._

By the time Edward had reached the doorway, I had stripped myself of my shirt and jeans, standing before him in simple black undergarments. Every fat roll and stretch mark was displayed, telling the story of who I was. But Edward knew who I wanted to be, who I could be, underneath all the skin. When he approached me there was no abhorrence in his eyes, only tenderness. There was no judgment in his fingers as he ran them down my arm, and there was no fear in my kiss as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

I managed to get his shirt off of him before he was pushing me down on the bed, hungry kisses nipping at my neck while his fingers undid my bra before I laid completely flush against his cool bed sheets. His affections were like a full meal, his fingers on my breasts a spicy appetizer which only barely prepared me for the entrée that was the touch of his mouth upon my sensitive nipples. Dessert came when he held one gently between his teeth and then flicked it with his tongue, sending my light whimpers spiraling into a full out moan.

My nerves came rushing back in a panicked stampede for a moment when my underwear was removed and I was completely bare before him. I'd always taken the time to trim downstairs, but never been into the concept of putting hot wax on my lady bits. I wasn't sure if being bare down there was an unspoken requirement for girls these days. Edward didn't seem to have a problem with it, and my nerves were erased as he settled next to me, showering kisses on my face and neck as his fingers traced a windy, torturous pathway down my body. When his hand was flush with an area of body that even I had barely touched that intimately, I gasped and buried my head in the crook where his neck met his shoulder.

It was slow and sweet, the way he pleasured me. His fingers explored in tandem to the state of my breathing. Having never experienced such sensations, I was amazed at the way the tremulous heat began underneath his fingers and then traveled to the rest of my body in waves that build in height until I was moaning loudly and writhing underneath his touch. Then that pleasure took off like a jet plane, until it was everything I felt in every cell of my body and my nails were digging into his arms as the waves slowly subsided, like water being pulled back to the sea. Edward held me until the trembling subsided, his own breathing still heavy in my ear.

_Holy hell if that's how good that feels, how the hell does anyone ever get out of bed and force themselves to put clothes on?_

It suddenly occurred to me that what had just happened had only been the result of his fingers. I was suddenly very curious to know what it would feel like with another part of his anatomy.

Rosalie had been very open with me when she'd lost her virginity. She said the first time it had transitioned from painful to uncomfortable, but if you're with a guy who gives a crap about what's happening, the intimacy of the moment can still be satisfying.

Of course that's what it was like with Edward. Emboldened, I had propped myself up on one arm and watched as he removed the rest of his clothes. I was not completely naive to the male anatomy, but I had never seen one so close up. Edward was more than happy to let me introduce myself, to let me acquaint my fingers to the surprisingly silky feeling of the skin, lined with large, bumpy veins. I watched in erotic fascination, Edward's hand covering my own and directing my moves, as he swelled and lengthened underneath my touch. When his breathing started to get ragged, he pushed my hand away so he could turn away and slide a condom on before covering my body with his own, skin smooth and intoxicating as it moved against my own.

There was pain that made me bite my lip and wince. It faded into a strange, mildly uncomfortable feeling that was punctuated by a satisfying mixture of amazed wonder. We moved together slow at first, increasing in speed as his husky breathing grew louder, and he buried his head against my neck. I could feel the potential for the friction to build into that same pleasurable burst I'd experienced earlier, but there was something satisfying enough in just feeling the sweat gather in Edward's auburn locks, and the way his shoulder blades moved as he let out a strangled moan and jerked against me. When his breathing had tempered off a little, he rolled over and pulled me to a resting place on his chest. I smiled against his warm skin lazily, lethargy moving through my veins and enticing me to sleep.

I was only too happy to oblige.

No fearful whispers pursued me into sleep.

There was only bliss.


	18. Afterglow

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things twilight related. I currently own a mountain of student debt and about 14 dollars in my bank account. So I guess we know who wins this round.**

* * *

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

You and me between sheets

It just doesn't get better than this

The many windswept yellow stickies of my mind

Are the molten emotional front line

I couldn't care less I'm transfixed in this absolute bliss

~Between Sheets, Imogen Heap

**Chapter 18-Afterglow**

There is a momentous and life changing feeling that erupts inside, when you wake up for the first time with a warm body next to you. It's like a flower, slowly uncurling its petals inside of you, until your whole being is filled with a sense of awe that leaves your skin tingling. I was almost afraid to move, for fear that doing so would prove the feel of Edward's slow breath on the back of my neck, and his arm lazily draped across my arm, to be yet another dream.

But the fear that I would pop the magical bubble of happiness was overshadowed by the need to pee. With squinted eyes and sluggish footfall, I found my way to Edward's bathroom. After my initial need was satisfied, I groped around the sink for soap so I could wash my hands.

A quick glance in the mirror woke me up faster than a double espresso. My hair was a three tier mountain of knotted messiness. I have a theory that either I do the tango with my pillow while I sleep, or the hair knot fairy thinks I'm her only customer. I guiltily eyed Edward's comb. I wasn't the type to use another's belonging without permission…but…another peak in the mirror reassured me that this was an emergency.

The assault upon my stubborn locks was a success, though it left my scalp rather tender. A dollop of toothpaste on my finger and some fervent scrubbing made me confident that I didn't have wicked bad morning breath. Tiptoeing back to the bedroom, I stopped in the doorway to admire what was waiting for me in bed. Edward's hair had not formed a knotted crown upon his head. No, his auburn strands were just bedraggled enough to create a contrast against the stillness of his face. The hand he had draped over me was stretched out towards the edge of the bed, as if beckoning me back to the soft, cool sheets.

_Don't have to ask me twice._

I had planned to creep gently back into bed, to reclaim my spot next to Edward's warmth without disturbing his slumber. That plan was instantaneously destroyed when I tripped over one of my own shoes and face-planted into the carpet with a loud "oof". Trust my klutziness to meddle with my afterglow. Pulling myself up onto my knees, I peered over the edge of the bed to see if Edward had stirred.

Luckily, my Adonis was as still as if he were actually a work of art carved from marble. Oozing the tension of someone trying to decide between cutting the red or blue wire, I carefully maneuvered myself back into my spot under Edward's arm. He stirred slightly, his hand grasping my waist and pulling me closer. I smiled as I snuggled against my pillow, my own hand moving to embrace his.

"Was I dreaming, or did you trip over my carpet?"

His drowsy question made me chuckle. I hadn't been as successful in my endeavors as I had thought.

"Actually it was my shoe. But it's probably not surprising that I have actually tripped over carpet before."

Edward laughed against my neck, his fingers moving to slowly trace the edge of my bra. I'd slipped back into my undergarments around midnight, after Id' been urged awake by needy kisses and tempting caresses. Afterwards, I was still awake enough to remember that I wasn't a fan of sleeping in the nude. Luckily for me, Edward had no such reservations. As I rolled over to give him a good morning kiss, there was nothing between me and his flesh, warm and inviting. Just a morning kiss turned out to be as realistic as having just one chip from a can of Pringles.

Once you pop the fun don't stop after all.

It was slow at first, as he shook off the last few tendrils of slumber's embrace. And then we were off, hearts a pounding drumbeat as our bodies called to each other in their native tongue; a tangled mess of hungry movements beyond our control. If Edward's ministrations weren't enough to send me into a frenzy of need, the lusty growl he released when my hand slipped down to give a proper hello to his morning wood certainly would have done the trick.

He allowed my caresses to persist for a few minutes, before grabbing my hand and pinning it against the pillow beside my head. "My turn," he declared with a husky growl that made my body tingle with anticipation.

First his fingers, moving across my skin; possessively grasping and tauntingly gentle all at once. When his mouth followed suite, I gasped and clutched desperately at the pillow, wanting to stay grounded, but failing against the current of pleasure washing through my body. Up, up I floated like a balloon till I couldn't feel anything but the sweet torture. With my release, the balloon popped, and gravity took me back down, till again I was aware of the cool sheets and the trembling in my limbs. Edward's mouth found my own, kissing and caressing me to calmer breathing, and then slowly starting to work my body into a frenzied state once again. When I was undulating against his touches to his satisfaction, Edward entered me with a teasing slowness. My fingers dug into the skin on his shoulders, and I bit my lip as his pace quickened.

The gasps and moans flew from me with uncontrolled abandon. As I reached my release for a second time, I was only partially aware that my lips were forming words. Edward came shortly after me, burying his face against my neck as his torso went rigid.

I laid the back of my hand against my dampened forehead as Edward rolled over, his own breathing short and fast. And then, with a sudden and vicious clarity, I realized the words that I'd gasped against Edward's skin as I came. "I love you."

My breath hitched in my throat and I felt like I was being doused in ice water. Had my outburst been muffled by Edward's own noises? Did I want them to have been? I couldn't find any amount of shame or unhappiness with my words. I was pretty sure I'd meant them. But I was nervous about Edward's reaction and a little unprepared for a possible conversation regarding the "L" word.

But Edward didn't say anything. After we both took turns cleaning up in the bathroom and getting dressed, I felt a sense of uneasiness come over me. I wasn't sure what social etiquette dictated should happen next. Was I supposed to say "Hey, thanks for making my cherry popping a pleasant experience, see you tomorrow?" Did we go out on a date, did I go home? Was I supposed to be going mad right now?

As if responding to my internal banter, Edward walked over to me and gave me a soft lingering kiss, interlocking his fingers with mine. "How about some breakfast?" he asked.

"Breakfast sounds good," I answered with a smile.

"How do you feel about some buckwheat and whole grain pancakes with honey?"

"That sounds delicious. How do you learn all these healthy alternatives for food?"

"I do a lot of research. There's a ton of online recipes, and I've done some of my own trial and error cooking."

I followed Edward out to the kitchen, settling down at the table and making conversation while he meandered around the kitchen. When I was in a kitchen, I was usually in a state of chaos; forgetting something on a burner, banging around in the cabinets haphazardly. Edward, as always, was graceful and controlled in his movements, and the kitchen was soon filled with a delicious aroma. Approaching the table like a waiter, a plate in each hand, he set our food down and turned to go grab the two cups of milk he'd poured. My eyes fell down to my plate, and then I froze.

The pancakes were a rich brown in color, light and fluffy and emitting a heavenly scent. But what had gotten my attention was the drizzle of honey he'd put on mine. The thick mixture was slowly soaking into the pancakes, dripping off the edges slightly, but not enough to hinder my ability to read what Edward had written in honey on top of the fluffy brown circle.

"Luv U 2".

As I gulped and tried to calm the overwhelming urge to burst into tears, Edward offered me my cup and sat down across from me nonchalantly.

"Really?" I whispered, certain that I didn't need to elaborate.

"Really," he answered warmly. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"A little," I confessed as I picked up my fork and cut into my pancake. "Why?"

Edward cocked an eyebrow. "Why do I love you?"

I nodded and tried to distract myself with what I was doing on my plate.

"Because you're beautiful, kind, and strong. Because I feel happiest when I'm with you. Because of a thousand other feelings you evoke in me, and the fact that I can't imagine my life without you in it now."

My cheeks flushed and I averted my gaze from the intensity in Edward's eyes. My sudden shyness dissipated however, when I took a bite of my pancakes and let out a loud moan of bliss. "Oh my gob dis eez sooo good."

Edward chuckled as he took a bite of his own meal. For the next ten minutes I was unable to emit any sort of sound aside from food porn moans and exclamations like "How can this be healthy when it tastes so good?"

When we were both done our meals, I helped Edward wash the dishes. Now that I was wide awake and fed, I was feeling kind of grungy in yesterday's clothes. A trip home to take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and check in with Rose was in order.

After walking me to my truck, Edward gave me a goodbye kiss that almost made me decide that fresh clothes were completely unnecessary. It was with great reluctance that I pulled away, my hands still lingering to frame his face. With a deep breath I looked him square in the eyes and said those three words again. "I love you." When he said it back and kissed my forehead, I didn't flinch, didn't doubt it. I smiled and breathed him in, giving in to my desire for one more kiss before hopping into the driver's seat. He waited patiently at the front of his driveway, his image in my rearview mirror a promise that I was taking him with me.

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"Somebody had a sleepover."

Rosalie was waiting to pounce on me in mockingly scandalized tones. Even if I had wanted to play it cool, pretend nothing major had happened, I couldn't hide the raw truth of my emotions from Rose. Not even a little bit. A smile, one party shy and two parts afterglow bliss, stretched across my face with wild abandon.

A strangled squeal of delight ripped its way out of my friend. Suddenly she was in my face, her fingers gripping my shoulders. "Oh my god, Bella. I know that smile. You didn't get any sleep at that sleepover, did you?"

I bit my lip and shrugged, which was apparently an unsatisfactory answer.

"Isabella Swan, you do NOT play meek and quiet with your best friend regarding matters like these."

Rolling my eyes, I forced my way past my dejected bestie, and set my purse down on the coffee table. "What do you want Rose, an x-rated play by play?"

"A Pg-13 rated summary at least!" she answered, oozing the enthusiasm of an excited puppy dog as she bounced onto the couch and pulled me down next to her.

It was quite obvious my shower was not going to happen till I gave Rose what she wanted. I did have an awful lot to catch her up on. Though I'd been home for a short while the day I'd woken up with Edward's writing on me, I hadn't really sat down and filled her in. So away I went, starting with my meltdown at Edward's, and ending with this morning's "L-word" exchange. When I was finished, Rose's eyes were full of tears and she was gripping my hands with a fervor that threatened to cut off blood flow.

"Holy hell, Bella. It's like your life has become a Nicholas Sparks book."

I groaned. "Doesn't someone always die in his books? Thanks for that morbid thought, Rose."

She laughed. "I was just referring to the sweeping, soul crushingly sweet romance."

"No, if my life were a romance I'd be a curvaceous temptress with long lashes, pouty lips, and flawless cocoa colored tresses. Now, is your need for juicy details satisfied? Because I'd like to take a shower and put on some clean clothes."

"Yes, you do that!" Rose replied, her golden hair bouncing about her shoulders as she jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. "But don't put on "around the house" clothes…because later, I am taking you out for a celebratory "lost your v-card" dinner!"

I was pulled to my feet and practically hurled towards the bathroom. "Your excitement about the status of my sex life is borderline creepy Rose! I just want you to know that!"

Several hours later I was in Rosalie's car, confused as to why we were halfway through our hour long drive to Port Angeles. It seemed like an awfully long drive to take just to get some dinner. Voicing that opinion had gotten me side-eye glare from Rose though, so I'd decided to keep my thoughts to myself. When we finally arrived at our destination, I peered out the window warily. When I saw the sign that labeled the building SoHo Asian Bistro, I went into full blown panic mode.

"Asian cuisine Rose, really? When have I ever eaten Asian food in a controlled manner, huh? I'm gonna totally blow my diet!"

My outburst received nothing but an eye roll from the heartless fiend. "We're celebrating, Bella. It's okay to stuff your face for one night. Besides, with all the sex you'll be having now, you'll be burning so many calories that this meal won't matter."

I couldn't really argue with her. We'd driven all the way here and my stomach was growling. There was no choice but to get out of the car, though I muttered at Rose while I did it.

Once we entered the establishment, all thoughts of aggravation dissipated as a myriad of savory aromas assaulted me. I may have gone a little weak in the knees with desire. Rose unleashed a triumphant smile, fully aware that she had me.

The service was timely, the atmosphere soothing and the food was divine. Rose and I split and order of Phod Kee Mao (spicy Thai style rice noodles with peppers, broccoli, tomato, and a blast of other flavors), and an order of Kun Pao Chicken. Just a few bites in, I was feeling like I wanted to live in that restaurant forever.

"Okay," I said, after finishing a bite of chicken, "I know you're all "let's celebrate Bella, huzzah!" but let's talk about you for a minute. How are things with you and Emmett?"

Rosalie Hale was not the kind of girl I'd ever typically describe as "melting with emotion", but in response to my question she pretty much did just that. Falling back against her chair as if she'd gone boneless, and I daresay she even got a bit doe-eyed as a lovesick smile stretched across her face.

In the words of the immortalized Bambi…she was twitterpated. I'd honestly never seen her like this before.

With the other men in her life, men like Royce, she'd always exuded a frenzied state of stress. Men had always treated her like a trophy, and she bent over backwards to please. She'd always worried about looking like the picture of perfection, and was crushed when the men around her abused her affections and treated her like an object instead of a person. This new look was peace and joy, a girl who was receiving as much as she was given. It warmed my heart as I listened to her talk about Emmett; the happiness etched in her voice as she talked about the things he did that drove her crazy, or made her laugh.

"So…explain it to me again. He told you he loved you on a pancake? How legible is syrup writing?" Rose leaned forward, her lovey-dovey demeanor gone and all focus back on me.

"First of all it wasn't syrup, it was honey."

"Honey?" Rose asked in surprise.

"Yes. Honey," I responded.

"How sweet," Rosalie deadpanned, causing me to roll my eyes. "But that still begs the question….how legible is honey writing?"

"Well, he had to minimize the writing…it was kind of in text speak. But still ridiculously sweet and somehow much classier than the way I did it."

"Hey now, there's nothing wrong with a mid-coitus declaration of love, Bella."

"Rosalie…it would be really great if you never used the word coitus in my presence again. Can we talk about normal things now?"

I managed to steer the conversation to more comfortable waters for the remainder of our meal. My stomach and my need for girl talk were both satiated as we headed to the car. Of course the minute the car was started and we were on our way home, Rose had to kill my buzz by turning on the radio and staring at me with an expectant smile. "Who is this, Bella?"

Here's the thing…when I know a song or an artist I'm really passionate about it. Unfortunately, a lot of songs and artists the majority of humanity consider to be cherished and a necessary part of everyone's musical vocabulary…elude me, for lack of a better phrasing. For instance, I could probably only pick out one of the Beatle's songs on the radio. That one about imagining all the happy people. At least I think that's a Beatle's song. I wouldn't put your money on it.

In any case, Rose likes to play a game with me when we're in the car. She'll turn the radio on and ask me to guess who the artist is. She learned very fast that asking for the song names themselves would get her nowhere. Not that I'm particularly good at naming the artists either. Normally my guess makes Rose take a very calm, slow breath, and then grip the steering wheel like she's imagining it's my throat.

You would think that after a while she'd stop this game, seeing as I have maybe a 10% chance of accuracy. Yet she keeps it up, leaving me to assume she must be slightly masochistic.

I turned my attention to the song at hand. Definitely a male voice. The lyrics didn't ring any bells in my head, but I listened closer, hoping for some recognition.

"Sweet Caroline  
Good times never seemed so good  
I've been inclined  
To believe they never would"

Nope, not a clue. I couldn't even think up a suitable guess. But then an idea struck. The last time we'd played this game, the answer had been The Beatles. This sounded like a slow Beatles era song.

"Um…is it The Beatles?"

I was answered with silence.

That thick, heavy silence that lets you know that you have said something terribly wrong and you are currently being judged.

"So that would be a no on The Beatles, Rose?"

"IT'S SWEET CAROLINE, BELLA. IT'S NEIL DIAMOND. NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIL DIIIIIIIIIAMOND. HE SOUNDS NOTHING LIKE THE BEATLES."

I shrugged, aware that I had angered the music gods, but so used to this losing battle that apathy had begun to set in. "I figure if I keep guessing The Beatles, I'll be right eventually."

Rosalie let out a defeated groan. "You, Isabella Swan, hurt my soul. Deeply."

"Then stop making me guess. It's like you've turned me into a knife with which you repeatedly stab yourself. Don't make me hurt you anymore Rose!" I waved my arms in a dramatic support of my words. Rose just shook her head at me like I had run over every cute fluffy pet she'd ever had.

Lucky for me my phone started ringing, a distraction from the downtrodden way Rose was sighing and casting me dagger glares. When I saw it was Charlie calling, I felt unnerving panic shoot though my brains. Here he was, calling at 7.30 at night, when it was unlike him to ever call anyone after 3pm. I answered the call in fear. "Dad? What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? Should I call an ambulance?"

"What? What in the hell are you talking about? Can't a father phone his daughter in expectation of a pleasant conversation?"

"Not when he's the kind of father that looks at telephones like they're children of the devil. Don't scare me like that. What is so important that you're calling at this time of night?"

"I had a thought and I ran with it. It's time, Bells. I'm putting my foot down. You've been traipsing about town with that Cullen for months and it's time for us to do an old fashioned "meet the parents" dinner with your dear old Papa Swan."

I didn't know what I was more horrified about. That my father had called himself Papa Swan…and somehow that sounded like a dirty porn name, or that he was insisting upon a dinner with Edward.

"Dad…I'm not sure…"

"You, young lady, are all out of excuses. You will show up, with your Cullen boy in tow, tomorrow night at five. Or I'll be forced to hunt you down and embarrass the hell out of you in public."

For once in my life…I actually believed a threat that had come from my father's mouth.

"Fine, Dad, fine. We'll see you tomorrow at five."

"That's my girl, love you."

I hung up the phone and stared ahead of me in shock.

"Who was on the phone, Bella? Are you okay? You look like you're gonna throw up."

I looked at Rose, the horror of my reality sinking in. "My dad just bullied me into agreeing to bring Edward over for dinner tomorrow."

A good friend would have fed me some soothing line about how I had nothing to worry about.

Or they'd tell me that I was being ridiculous, and make a sarcastic joke to break through to my terror encased soul.

But not Rosalie.

She looked at me with big-bug eyes, took a deep breath, and said "You did tell him he's not allowed to bring any of his guns to dinner, right?"

_Thanks, Rosalie, thanks._

With that…I felt the last dregs of my afterglow evaporate into the dark abyss that was my life.

**(AN) So this will probably be one of those "too long, I'm not reading this" kind of notes...which is why I saved it for the bottom. Feel free to just ignore it. But the summary is...I finished my bachelor's degree...and have spent the past months trying to find work in my field of choice. That kind of bombed...and a tiny bit of depression set in...and then it grew into a mountain of depression. And well...it's hard to write a story where the main character is so much of yourself, when you're not feeling too good about where you're at in life. So I apologize for the long disappearance...and I hope that some of you have stuck around. Big hugs and eternal gratitude go to my beta Missy, and to Amber, Nikka, and Olivia...who have been so supportive of me and persistently assured me that I'd get over my hump and reconnect with this story. You guys were right, and I love you. And to everyone who is still reading...I love you too. Chapter 19 is already halfway done...so here's to a promise that I'll be taking you to the end of this story with no more 3 month absences.**


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